


The Tailors Daughter

by HolmesHarleyWatson



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Diabetes, F/M, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Knives, Medication, Native American Character(s), Native American/First Nations Culture, Native American/First Nations Deities, Self-Harm, Sex, Shooting Guns, Vigilante Joker (DCU)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-08-09 23:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesHarleyWatson/pseuds/HolmesHarleyWatson
Summary: Where did The Joker get his clothes tailored at? What if he wanted the tailor all to himself? what if she wanted to belong to him too? This is a Heath Ledger Joker/Original Female Character Fic.





	1. Chapter 1

Hello to all my faithful readers and soon to be faithful readers! Thank you in advance for the follows, the reviews, etc.

So, this will be a Heath Ledger Joker/OFC fic. M RATED, Don't like, don't read. I got the idea while wondering who The Joker's Tailor was while watching The Dark Knight one day and getting caught up by Commissioner Gordon stating that even his (the Joker's) clothing had no labels, tailor-made, etc. I know, my brain is so nuts! Who the Hell else would have made an entire fanfic off of that one stupid line? Any who, DISCLAIMER; NO I DO NOT OWN THE JOKER, (HE OWNS ME:D) I DON'T OWN THE DARK KNIGHT OR ANYTHING ELSE DC RELATED! I ONLY OWN MY OFC, WHO IS AWESOME! ENJOY!

If Genevieve Alighieri had to pin-point exactly when her whole life had changed, she would have said that it was the day her Father had had his stroke. First off; the whole day had just started wrong. She had woken up late, which is something that hadn't happened since she was nine and had tonsillitis, the water had been shut off for their whole block due to a burst water main pipe; meaning she was shit out of luck for a shower or coffee, and the cherry on top of the shit-cake was their Mastiff Anubis chewing up her favorite pair of black leather boots.

"You just wait Anubis! No fucking treats for a month! Hope my goddamned shoes were tasty!" Genevieve spat, snatching her car keys off the coffee table and shoving her feet into a pair of black sketchers that she normally only wore when she went jogging. She slammed the door behind her, yanked open the faded red door of her Mustang and unceremoniously tossed the briefcase containing her Father's books for the past month into the back seat. Normally, this would have been her one Friday off per month; but her Father had been out of town for the past week now and she was handling the family Tailoring business on her own. Normally, Genevieve only made expensive suits and evening gowns for her Fathers clientele; relegating herself to the work room at the back of the shop with lists of measurements and piles of fabric swatches, reveling in the peace and solitude of her work. She had been sewing practically before she could walk and talk, losing herself to her craft until she was making all of her own clothing with her own two hands; smirking at the envy of her high school classmates as they ogled her one of a kind creations. Genevieve had had dreams of going to college and becoming a fashion designer; until her Mother had disappeared during her senior year and was never heard from again. Her Mother used to be the one toiling away in the back of the shop helping her Father clothe Gotham's elite, and after her disappearance Genevieve just couldn't leave her Father to run the shop on his own. Hence the reason that Genevieve was eighteen years old, fresh out of high school and already fully immersed in her Family business; no time for friends, a social life, nada. Her Father hadn't wanted her to stay with him, he had wanted her to go to college and follow her dreams, but she had known she had made the right choice in the end. Genevieve parked her mustang in her Dad's vacant spot and climbed out of the car, hoisting the briefcase over her shoulder and jiggling the keys as she unlocked the door. She made her way to her Father's office at the back of the shop just as her cell phone began ringing. Genevieve sighed, dropping the briefcase on the polished mahogany desk as she dug her cell from her pocket.

"Alighieri Tailors, this is Genevieve, how can I help you?" She asked on autopilot as she grabbed a pen and notepad.

"Is this Genevieve Alighieri?" an official sounding voice asked.

"Yes, can I help you?" She repeated, powering on her Dad's laptop in preparation for the days data entry and bookkeeping.

"This is Dr. David Sanchez from San Francisco General. Ma'am, I'm afraid there's been an accident. Your Father Victor had a stroke in his hotel room last night; the hotel maid found him this morning. I'm sorry ma'am, but he passed away from the hemorrhaging."

Genevieve frowned, sinking into her Fathers leather office chair, the light in the room was very bright and she could suddenly hear the buzzing of the neon lights above her; she became aware of a tightening in her chest that reached up, up, up, and all the way to her throat. She gasped for air, her hands clammy and cold on the cell phone she was holding.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you alright? Do you need emergency services?" The Doctor asked her, his voice seemingly far away from her. Genevieve cleared her throat and swallowed, taking in a deep breath before answering;

"I'm fine. I….uh, I'll call the funeral home and have them pick up the..pick up my Dad. He has a plot and stuff….here in Gotham."

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way ma'am. Are you sure that you'll be okay?" Dr. Sanchez asked again, concerned.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry, I have to go. I'm at my Dad's shop and I have a lot of work to do. Thank you for calling." She hung up and squeezed her eyes shut, allowing a single tear to make its way down her cheek. The silence of her Fathers office…..now, her office pressed in on her from all sides until she shot up from the chair and ran out blindly through her cavernous sewing room in the back; dodging naked and half-clothed mannequins, skeins of fabric, tables laden with piles of swatches until she reached the back door and kicked it open, drawing in lungful's of air. Genevieve dug her cigarette holder from her back pocket and dug one out, flicking her zippo open with shaking hands and inhaling the poisonous smoke deeply into her lungs. She held the smoke in until her lungs were burning and then she slowly exhaled, trying not to scream even though she wanted to desperately. She was alone now…..just her, the mannequins, and lots of snobby, rich customers who couldn't give a rats ass that Victor Alighieri; Tailor and Father, had ceased to exist at some point during the night. All that their, no, her customers cared about was their suits, their dresses, and the accessories that went with them. Genevieve flicked her cigarette butt away from her and watched tiny sparks fly from it as it bounced on the crumbling asphalt in the alley behind HER shop. She had work to do. Genevieve re-entered the shop, locking the door behind her. She typed the password into HER computer, in HER office, sat in HER chair behind HER desk and pulled up the list of orders for that week. Genevieve ticked off the orders one by one, a size 7 burgundy satin and lace dress for Sarah H. Mortenson, a three-piece Navy suit for a Mr. Howard Lenter, and a size 12 Ivory business suit with a pencil skirt for a Ms. Lisa Dunn; the list went on and on and she recalled each of the items in her head with precise clarity because she had created them with her own hands. Those orders were all ready and waiting for their owners; or more likely, their owner's assistants to pick up. She scrolled further down and frowned at a list of garments for one account in particular, her eyes bulging at the dollar amount paid, and checked off the items one by one. Genevieve had been making this guy's clothes ever since she was twelve, she knew that because he was the only Male customer who ordered three-piece suits, trench coats, dress shirts, and ties all with the best fabrics and all in varying shades of dark purple and dark green with dark grey, black, and pale blue accessories. He was tall; 6'4", size 13 shoe, 175 pounds. It had taken her two weeks to complete the newest deep plum trench coat he had ordered with crimson silk lining due to the number of inside pockets he had specified be sewn into the coat. The job had been a bitch because he had been very specific about the number of pockets, their width and their depth. Genevieve picked up her cell phone once again and dialed the number on the account, frowning at the "name" listed on the line above the phone number she dialed. A bolded and underlined letter J was the only semblance to a name on the account.

"What?" a male voice, heavy New York, answered the phone. Undaunted by his rude greeting, Genevieve kept her professionalism intact.

"Hello, this is Genevieve Alighieri with Alighieri Tailors. Can I speak to Mr. J please?" She asked, rising from her seat and walking out of the office towards the mannequin that wore her masterpiece of a trench coat.

"Just a sec. Boss? It's the Tailors. Want me to handle it?" Heavy New York asked.

"Victor?" A smooth voice asked, the sound of which sent a not entirely unpleasant shiver down her spine. Mr. Purple Trench sounded sexy…

"No, some broad from his shop." Heavy New York replied, making Genevieve flex her jaw in annoyance.

"Hello?" Ah. Mr. Purple Trench had taken her call after all.

"Good Morning Mr. J, this is Genevieve Alighieri from Alighieri Tailors. I was calling to let you know that your order is ready. Is your assistant picking it up or would you prefer that I deliver it?" She asked, hoping that Heavy New York was not going to be the assistant picking up.

"Where's Victor? He's aware of the normal procedure for my orders." Mr. J asked her.

"My Father passed away unexpectedly last night. I'm taking over the shop now; I apologize, he didn't leave any instructions." She replied anxiously.

"Passed away? Well, that's too bad. I liked your Father; and he was a widower, so now you're all alone?" He asked.

"Yes." She said, wanting to get the call over with now, sexy voice or not.

"My assistant will text you an address. I'd like the order delivered."


	2. Lets play the name game

Hello Joker Fans and Fiends!

Thank you for keeping the rats running in their wheels with all of your awesome reviews and follows! You guys rock! Shiny, pointy objects for you all! LOL!

Chapter 2

True to his word, Mr. J sent her a text to meet him Saturday evening at 8pm sharp at an address in Downtown Gotham; which worked out well because she had a lot of other appointments both for pick-ups and deliveries between today and Friday afternoon.

"_It's a Date Mr. J" _Genevieve had texted back, tossing her phone back onto the sewing table in front of her as she switched bobbins and rethreaded the machine. Her phone rang once again and to her surprise, Mr. J's name (which she saved moments before) flashed over the screen.

"This is Genevieve," She answered, pausing and adjusting her fabric.

"I've been doing some thinking, uh, Genevieve. I did business with your Father for years and years and we knew each other really, really well. I knew of you and your uh, Mother in passing conversation only, and since you are taking over for Victor; there are probably a lot of things we have to discuss. Would you be very opposed to having dinner with me on Saturday night? Or would that interrupt your Saturday evening plans?" Mr. J asked, his voice reminded her of Nubuck leather; it could be soft and coaxing to the touch, but would still leave a mark if you were hit with it. The thought made her shiver.

"I never have evening plans Mr. J, my work is my life. Should I meet you at a different location or…?"

"Never? You can't be older than twenty if I recall my previous conversations with Victor. You know what they say Vieve-uh; all work and no play, do you mind if I call you Vieve? I have the hor-rib-le habit of renaming people for my own convenience." He asked her, a small chuckle following the question doing strange things to her pulse points. All of it suddenly came together; the clothes, the voice, the 'Mr. J', all of the dark shades of purple and green….

"No, um, I don't mind. Do I get to know what the 'J' stands for? Or are you going to make me wait until Saturday?" She asked. Was she flirting with a customer/bank robber/Batman antagonist? Yes, yes she was. There was a raucous and almost infectious cackle on the end of the receiver and she couldn't help but giggle in return.

"Oh Vieve, Victor never told me how _fun_ you were. I suppose he was just keeping you all to himself. What do you think the 'J' stands for?" He asked her. Was he flirting back now? Well, she could be doing worse things with her afternoon.

"Hmmm. A guessing game, huh? Well, I watch a lot of news and I'm pretty observant for the average not-older-than-twenty. If you were close to my Father; and I do believe that you were, then you know he was like neutral ground for specific clientele, like the all the different Mafia Factions in Gotham. You may not be aware of this Mr. J, but I've been making your clothes since I was twelve years old and I used to dream of becoming a fashion designer. Then, one day, lo and behold! One of my fabulous creations is on TV, but it's not on an episode of _Runway_, it's on the 9 O'clock news' footage of a bank heist; but hey, everybody has to get their start somewhere and a girl can't be too picky when it comes to free publicity, can she _Mr. Joker?"_ There was a static charged silence for a moment before he burst out laughing at her fearlessness and audacity. She really was Victor's child, through and through; and she would be added to his collection, this conversation had just sealed the deal as far as he was concerned. He'd have to get her out of that crappy little shop though first, and a direct approach was all he really had time for.

"Saturday, 8 O'clock sharp, same address. You aren't uh, _scared…._are you Vieve? That new nickname I gave you; in French it means _lives_. You're a very vibrant young Woman, I'm sure that you won't disappoint me." The line went dead and Vieve sat back in her seat, the lace she had been attaching to a burgundy miniskirt fell from her hand. Her heart was certainly racing; but it wasn't from fear….it was from adrenaline.

Genevieve toiled away in the solitude of the shop, making calls, taking down new orders and setting up bookings for measurements and consultations through the end of the month. Even if she wanted time to grieve, she didn't have it at all. The Funeral Home called her and confirmed that they had secured her Father's body, and asked her for instructions as to the Wake and burial. Victor Alighieri had many customers, but no friends and the only family he had was the Daughter he left behind.

"My Dad had a coffin picked out, right?" She asked, the cell phone held in the crook of her shoulder as her sewing machine whirred away; stitching fine golden threads through bronzed silk splayed over her work table.

"Yes Ms. Alighieri; a blonde oak with golden trim. Would you like to view the casket before we lay your Father to rest?" The Funeral Director asked kindly.

"No, my Dad knew what he wanted. I want all of his final wishes carried out to the letter." She replied firmly, adjusting the evening gown she was working on as to not wrinkle the silk material.

"Yes of course Ms. Alighieri. And the Wake?" He asked her. Genevieve placed the bronze silk and lace gown into a thick vinyl garment bag and hung it, taking the time to think carefully before she answered. The morning before her Father had left for San Francisco they had had breakfast together at their favorite diner and spent the day working at the shop together amiably before she drove him to the airport. He had told her that he could have taken a cab so she could have had an early dinner and had an evening free, but she had insisted; telling him that there was no reason for him to waste money on a cab while she sat on her ass at home. That's what she had loved about her Dad; she could talk to him like a friend, they could relate to each other like friends. They were closer than most fathers and daughters were. She remembered walking him through baggage check and then to the boarding area, both of them sipping warm caramel lattes and going over last minute instructions for while he was gone. He had given her one of his infamous bear-hugs and a kiss on her forehead; telling her that he loved her and to be careful and take care of herself. She realized that that was how she wanted to remember her Father. She didn't want to see him cold and pale and lifeless inside of a wooden fucking box. She wanted to remember the way his warm embrace felt, the smell of his cologne mixed with the smell of the detergent she washed his casual clothes in, the way his eyes always sparkled with humor and intelligence, and the way his face would light up with pride whenever she caught him watching her sew in the shop. Genevieve let the tears flow down her cheeks as she shut her eyes and took a deep breath before she answered;

"No, no Wake. I don't want to remember him like that. We were all we had, no other family or friends." She said, holding back a sob croakily. She really needed to hold her shit together here; he would have wanted her to be strong.

"Very well Ms. Alighieri. We will prepare the Coffin and your Father in the suit that you sent over to us and he will be interred tomorrow afternoon. Would you like to be present for the interment?" he asked.

"No. Just remember; a single white rose on the coffin. You can just give me a call when the headstone is placed next week." She said, hanging up the phone abruptly. Genevieve grabbed a tissue and swiped across her eyes irritably, losing patience with herself. She had so much work to do and so many things to put in place in order to keep the shop running; now wasn't the time for letting her emotions get the better of her. Her Father was gone, but she needed to keep his dream alive; he had dedicated his life to this shop. She had to focus on keeping the doors open and the customers she had inherited happy. Her thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing once more, causing her to halt in her tracks on her way back into her sewing room and go racing back to the front of the shop. She decided as she was able to snag the receiver on the last ring before the call was sent to voice mail that she was going to relocate the phone to her sewing room for the sake of her sanity before she closed up shop today.

The Joker was reclining in a leather chair in his study, a lit cigarette in one hand and a switchblade in the other; his long legs stretched out before him with his feet propped up on his desk. His boys were downstairs in his seaside hideout, he could hear them talking, laughing, and the occasional scuffle and grunt or groan as they practiced hand to hand combat. Johnny Frost had been up to bring him dinner earlier, which sat untouched on his polished ebony desk; he had sent Johnny right back out again on an errand and he was more interested in the fruits it would bear than the now cold Italian beef sandwich wrapped up on a plate before him. Johnny came rushing back in and handed him a large manila envelope and a carton of cigarettes.

"Aren't you hungry, boss?" He asked, motioning to the plate on the desk between them. Joker stared at Johnny for a moment, wondering why people felt the need to ask questions when the obvious answer was staring them in the face.

"No. I'm busy. Give those morons the night off and tell 'em to clear _off._ I need some fuckin peace and _quiet."_ He hissed, shooing Johnny out with an impatient wave of his greasepaint stained hand. Johnny backed out of his study double time as he shoved the carton of cigs into the top drawer of his desk and took out the contents of the envelope; which happened to be a large dossier on one Genevieve Alighieri.

The basics he knew; 19th birthday in a month, 5'2", 140 pounds, Father Victor Alighieri; Italian, Tailor by trade (on paper), Mother Awinita Cloudwalker; Lakota Indian, tailors wife, went missing a couple of years ago, presumed dead (was really committed to Arkham Asylum by the Bat because he considered her "a danger to Gotham and to herself") a factoid that he knew Genevieve to be ignorant of. He wondered if she had inherited her Mothers powers at all or if Daddy's genes had won out during the chromosome battle? Victor's death would be common knowledge to everyone soon, meaning that Genevieve was in danger; Funny thing when the bad guy has to step in and save a life. It would be boring too if it weren't for the fact that he knew that she was going to be so fun. Not to mention that he didn't want Batsy getting ahold of her first…

"_Johhhhnnny…" _Joker called in a sing-song voice.

"Boss?" Frost asked, appearing in the study so fast it looked as though he was summoned there by magic.

"Bring the car around Johnny. I'm in the mood to go for a little _ride._"


	3. A Narrow Escape

Chapter 3: A Narrow Escape/from the Frying Pan to the Fire

Days at the shop were fine for Genevieve because she was able to zone out and focus on her work. It was always dark when she closed, but she never really kept track of time; just as she no longer took her medication or checked her blood sugar. Since her Father's death one day seemed to pass into the next, she didn't appear to have an appetite and she was always tired. She bought cases of energy drinks and cartons of cigarettes and seemed to exist on a diet of Caffeine and nicotine alone. The medication for her diabetes type 1 that she had the misfortune of being born with stood gathering dust in the medicine cabinet in the shop, the insulin was shoved into the vegetable crisper at home and forgotten about, the pills for her depression, the pills that were supposed to suppress her tendencies to cut herself; they all lay in various locations between her home and her shop. Genevieve had given Anubis to her neighbor because she really didn't want to come home except to sleep and to shower and to run back to work. Her neighbor had kids and the same size yard that she had, and she knew that he would have the attention he deserved there. It was Wednesday when she broke down and snatched the scissors that she normally used to cut fabric and sliced up and down her arms until there was not an inch that wasn't crisscrossed with cuts, some deeper than others; and a few that should have been stitched. Genevieve sat on the floor in the back of the shop entranced by blood and pain until she wanted a cigarette badly enough to shift her ass and go out back to smoke. When she looked towards the front of the shop, she noticed it was dark again; her cell phone told her that it was 4 am on Thursday morning. She grabbed her cigarettes off of her work table and turned towards the back door, noticing that her vision was blurry and she felt weak, shaky, and sluggish. By now, Genevieve was certain that her Pancreas was crawling towards a slow death and taking her with it, and stared at all of the suits and dresses around her; all of her work of the past few days. A bolt of dark plum leather caught her eye and she studied it for a moment, lost in thought as the silence of the shop pressed in on her. Purple, any shade of purple; had always been her favorite color. Purple and black. The colors of death and mourning. She wondered if she would live long enough to ask Mr. J why _he _loved purple so much. Genevieve lit a cigarette and took a long drag, pulling the smoke in deep and exhaling slowly. She watched the opaque whorls float away into the night sky and shivered, pulling her own royal purple kid leather jacket tighter around her; surprised that she could still register temperature on any level. She was so numb these days; unless it was pain, she _felt that…._

Joker sat on the roof above Genevieve, a cigarette of his own the only tiny source of light in the pitch darkness. Johnny frost sat beside him; both of them had their .38 revolvers drawn and waiting, watching the young woman below them. Joker frowned pensively as he took in the stature of her small frame, her stance, her eyes, and the paleness of her would be tan face. He had seen numerous pictures of the young woman in the dossier that Frost had delivered to him earlier. He also knew (between the dossier and previous conversations with Victor) that Genevieve was ill. Victor had said that she was born with Diabetes type 1 which had run rampant on her Mother's side of the family killing nondiscriminatory. He remembered Victor mentioning something else about her health, but he couldn't recall precisely what it was; either way, she looked like she had been through hell. Her hair was dull and her eyes were glassy and lifeless. Joker wondered if she had taken anything to get high or if she was just that sick? Johnny nudged Jokers arm softly and nodded in the direction of a car that had pulled in to the front on the shop. Joker nodded, his tongue flicking out to the scar on his left cheek and sucked in the uneven flesh pensively.

"Shit…" He sighed, seeing Genevieve toss her cigarette forlornly and go back into the shop, slamming the door closed behind her. This was going to get ugly momentarily, and Joker was usually more than up to the challenge, but he was not accustomed to being the hero who saved the day; it almost made his skin crawl. He motioned for Frost to follow him, feeling like he'd need a shower after this rescue mission for how wrong the whole ordeal was making him feel. The sound of glass shattering caused him to let out an involuntary giggle; looks like shit was in full swing now….

Genevieve grabbed her Father's gun from his- no _her-_ desk as soon as she saw through the shops store front that there was a car parked next to hers out front. The glass shattered as an arrow crashed through it, missing Genevieve by at least two feet. She glanced at it as she crouched down behind her sewing table; hollow steel tensile arrow shot from a modern competition bow, but a shitty shot. Her would be assassin was obviously an amateur at best; because a pro would have hit their target and she wouldn't be hiding in the back of her shop planning their annihilation otherwise.

"Ms. Alighieri? We know that you're here. It's no use hiding here, we have the shop surrounded and I would ask you to come peacefully…." The voice of an older male with a heavy Lakota accent called out, crunching on broken glass as he approached the deserted reception area. Genevieve softly sucked in a tiny gasp when she heard his voice. Her Mother used to tell her the stories of their Tribal Heritage and Genevieve would listen enraptured as a child and later on with bemusement when she was older, taking in the stories with a grain of salt. Awinita Alighieri would sit with her and talk about the legend of The great and powerful Medicine Woman of the Tribe who supposedly could not only 'magically' heal the injured and sick, but also wield extraordinary powers that the Great Spirit had blessed her with. Every generation, a female was born with these abilities, and passed them on to her daughter. There was more to the legends and stories, but Genevieve had lost a lot of them over the years as she let tailoring and seam stressing take over her life; partially because they were just stories…..right? What was this prick after anyways? Genevieve blinked rapidly, trying to shake the blurriness from her vision irritably, knowing that her blood sugar was extremely high, and she was just on borrowed time with her health as it was. A second set of footsteps crunching on glass announced a second intruder; lighter steps this time. A small male or perhaps a female?

"You have five fucking seconds to get out of my shop, and I'm being goddamned generous!" Genevieve shouted, not wanting to play games with these assholes anymore.

"I said that we have you surrounded! Don't do anything stupid, we can handle this peacefully." The old male voice reiterated. Genevieve scooted back quietly, sliding on her ass until she hit the back wall of the sewing room, searching for the right spot in the rug that hid the latch to her Fathers weapon stash. When he explained to her at a very young age that some of their customers were 'bad men' he had shown her the little compartment and how to spring the latch and grab whatever she needed. Her Father had taught her how to shoot, how to use a knife, and her mother had taught her archery since she could walk. They had wanted her prepared they had said, because Gotham was not always a nice place to live; she could have laughed at that now. Her Father had left her to deal with The Joker for Christ sake; certainly, she could deal with these morons from the reservation. Genevieve hit the latch and the compartment opened on silent hinges, revealing four more guns, several knives, and three hand grenades. The sound of another arrow nocking and the bow being drawn helped Genevieve make up her mind; if it was war these mutherfuckers wanted, she'd bring it. There was insurance on the shop after all, and she had plenty of money left to her besides that. She could technically take this little tailoring gig with her anywhere she wanted to, and it was those freeing thoughts that helped her come to a conclusion as she grabbed a knife and shove it in her pocket and grab the three hand grenades. She popped up from her hiding place and shot the old man in the face, his gun dropping from his hand with a soft clunk onto the carpeted floor. She shot another younger male in the chest as he came around the side of the reception counter towards her, causing him to miss his shot and the bullet to just graze her arm, which she ignored, keeping her focus on the front of the shop, looking for more of them. The back door slammed open on its hinges and she whipped around, aiming her gun, but holding her fire as she saw the most shocking sight of her life. There, in all of his dark purple and navy-blue glory, was The Joker aiming a pistol of his own at her but retracting it slightly as he scanned the front of the shop, looking for her would-be assassins. Genevieve jumped slightly when she heard shots out back, but Mr. J shook his head as he carefully side-stepped towards her, gun still trained on the front of the shop.

"That's just my boy Johnny taking out the uh—_trash."_ He told her, a smile tugging at the scars on his cheeks. Genevieve swallowed as she took in the sight of him in her sewing room; he seemed to exude a sense of power beneath those well-tailored clothes, muscles tensed and ready to spring like a wildcat, eyes taking in and surveying every detail of the shop from the sewing table to the dead bodies to the trapdoor compartment to her small form clutching her fathers gun in both hands; this was a man that you didn't fuck with, his entire aura bespoke it.

"I thought we weren't meeting until Saturday." She blurted, lowering her gun slowly.

"You wouldn't've lasted until Saturday, toots. If these _fucks_ didn't take you out, then your own stupidity would've. How longs it been since you took your meds? Hmm?" He asked her, coming closer still. Genevieve frowned, unsure if she heard him correctly. How the fuck would he know?

"What?" She asked in confusion, lowering her gun completely now as she looked into his eyes, her vision blurring and refocusing with every beat of her hammering heart. She took in the sight of his war paint, the white and red and black blurring together like a kaleidoscope as her head swam.

"Trying to uh, off yourself since Daddy died, hm? And for _what, exactly? _You haven't even tried to _live _yet 'Vieve. Toiling away in Daddy's little shop _isn't living." _He said, his voice washing over her accusatorily and sensually all at once, making her feel almost helpless; like the gun she held may as well have been a toy. Before she could answer, she heard it again; the metallic whisper of the string being pulled taught as an arrow nocked to a bow. Genevieve shoved The Joker out of the way and turned, gun aimed, coming face to face with a teenage girl holding a bow taught and aiming it at Genevieve's heart. They both fired at the same time, but the bullet connecting with the amateur archer flung her shot wild; causing the arrow to go through Genevieve's shoulder. The pain made her see white as she fell, her gun dropping from her hand and spiraling away from her, her hand going to the arrow sticking out of her shoulder at once.

"Ah ta, ta, ta. Leave it in or you'll bleed out." The Joker said, batting her hand away as she gasped and cringed.

"Get out of here, I- I don't know how many there are. The old man said the shop was surrounded," She panted out, reaching for the grenades she had stowed away in her jacket. Joker frowned at her as he saw the very real concern she had for him on her face and wondered why it was there in the first place….

"Why'd you shove me out of the way? Aren't you_ afraid _of me? Wouldn't it have been better if you would have just let her take me out?" He asked, barely breaking eye contact with her as he shot another person coming through the back door.

"Call it good customer service skills," she quipped, closing her eyes because the previously dim sewing room was becoming too bright. She heard Mr. J giggle as someone called him from the back door.

"We're clear boss, should I bring the car around?" Johnny Frost asked.

"Have Seth bring the car, you gather up all the weapons, put the bodies of the men in the uh, van. Leave the body of the girl here. Make it look like a robbery gone _bad. _Understood?" He asked, lifting Genevieve's placid form easily from the floor into his arms and carrying her to the car. Johnny Frost retrieved a blanket and several towels from the trunk as Joker settled her in the back seat with him.

"Burn the shop down when you and the boys are finished and get Dr. Wellington on the phone, tell him to meet me at the warehouse by the docks; tell him we've got a diabetic off her meds with an arrow through the shoulder, got it?" He asked, pressing the towel against Genevieve's arrow wound and pulling the blanket over her.

"Yeah boss, we'll be behind you in ten." Johnny replied, handing Joker Genevieve's cell phone. Genevieve stirred restless beside him, grabbing his forearm with sudden strength and urgency.

"Your clothes….my…car." She murmured, trying hard to focus on his eyes as her vision dimmed again.

"Get her car. Switch out the plates and have the boys get rid of the originals. _Drive _Seth,"

Genevieve was aware of The Joker's hand applying pressure to her shoulder and the car pulling off before she lost consciousness completely.


	4. Almost Dead

Dr. James Wellington (knick-named Doc by Joker) had been on Jokers payroll for years now; every criminal sect had a doctor on the books, and The Joker wasn't an exception to that rule. The only difference was that his services were required far less due to the high mortality rate of most of the thugs he hired and the fact that most of them were expendable. Joker had been injured badly enough only a handful of times throughout the years to require Doc's services himself. There were only a dozen or so henchmen that Joker preferred to keep around long term because of their loyalty and reliability and Doc was used to dealing with them far more frequently after a bank heist, a take down of a mafia faction that was getting too ballsy for Jokers liking, or a good old fashion brawl with The Bat. Joker couldn't recall ever bringing him an injured female before. Joker didn't deal with women much and avoided them when he could unless he needed a hostage to catch The Bats attention. Sure, there was the random urge to get one in the sack every now and then which was dealt with easily enough; Gotham was infamous for its escort services that catered to elite and rich clientele. Joker would fork over twice their asking price and give specific instructions that they were to follow, pitch dark room and blindfolds; he only ever fucked them from behind to negate the risk of the hooker ever seeing his face and recognizing his scars. He'd usually follow up a good fuck with going out on the town on his own and blowing something up; reveling in the high he felt from a combination of the chaos of the explosion and the euphoria of getting off a good nut. Then it would be back to business as usual with his head cleared and his needs taken care of so he could focus on upcoming projects more clearly. The bleeding woman beside him drew his attention once more as he felt his hands getting warm with fresh blood. Joker grabbed another towel and pressed it around the arrow sticking out of her shoulder, noticing that she had grown even more pale than when he saw her from the roof 20 minutes before. Genevieve was a strange anomaly if he had ever encountered one. She could have put a bullet in his head back at the shop and she didn't; Joker had been testing her with the arrow really, he had seen the young female archer coming a mile off and was prepared to grab Genevieve and pull her down with him, but she had knocked him out of the way and took the shot herself and he would have blamed those heroics on her suicidal tendencies if she hadn't told him to leave after she was hit because she knew the shop was surrounded and she didn't know how many assassins their were. _Why the concern for his safety ? And why wasn't she afraid of his face? Of his scars? What the fuck was wrong with this girl? _The swirling questions made Joker laugh softly as Seth pulled into the warehouse and threw the car in park; he hurried around the Cadillac and opened the door for Joker. Joker stepped out with Genevieve in his arms, the neon lighting in the warehouse throwing her pallor into stronger relief. Dr. Wellington wheeled a stretcher forward and Joker placed the woman on it wordlessly, turning towards the bathroom to wash her blood off of his hands as Doc wheeled her away into what Joker laughingly called "The New And Improved Gotham General"; a surgical room that was used to mop up injuries when Doc was in house. Joker flicked on the light in the bathroom with his forearm and his reflection stared back at him as he turned on the hot water and rinsed off the majority of the blood, watching as it swirled down the drain. He loved the sight of it. He opened the cabinet under the sink and brought out a bowl and a gallon container of hydrogen peroxide, filling the bowl with peroxide, he plunged his hands into the clear liquid and watched as it bubbled slightly when it came into contact with his hands, eating away the remaining evidence of bright pink and turning his skin white in the process. There was a knock at the door and his jaw muscles rippled in annoyance as he shook his dulling green hair out of his eyes, _can't get a moments fucking peace….._

"Its Johnny, Boss," Frost announced, sounding winded and nervous. Joker swung the door open and it bounced back on its hinges as he stared his Henchman down for a moment; fishing his pack of cigarettes out of his pants pocket and lighting one, sucking the nicotine down in an effort not to punch Johnny in the face. He was just getting into one of those moods and by the look on Frosts face, he could sense that mood surfacing like some kind of emotional support dog.

"Well, what is it Lassie? Is Timmy down a fuck-ing well or wh-at?" Joker asked, licking his scars and raising a black-painted eyebrow.

"It's the Girl boss, Doc needs to talk to you, says its urgent." Frost said, shifting from foot to foot, awaiting further instructions. Joker waved him off and went into the Surgical Room, shutting the door behind him quickly when he realized that Doc had cut her clothes off and was scrubbing her clean for surgery.

"I'm not sure about her J," Doc said as he attached a heart monitor to her chest and readjusted the IV drip in her left arm. Joker stared at the myriad of deep cuts up and down both of her forearms which were previously hidden by her jacket.

"Those are self-inflicted," he said softly, almost to himself; but Doc nodded affirmatively.

"She has a lot going on here; Blood Glucose is at 873, white cell count is elevated due to one or more of those cuts being infected, the amount of blood that she's lost means we're looking at a transfusion, and even if I get her stabilized, I'm still not sure that she'll make it." Doc explained, intubating her and watching her oxygen saturation climb to a healthier level.

"I've seen you pull miracles outta your ass before, Doc." Joker said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

"I'm also going to need an assistant here, this is going to be a delicate surgery. Can Frost scrub in?" Doc asked, not having many options available.

"Uh, no. I'll scrub in, you tell me what to do." Joker said, heading to the sink and rolling his sleeves up. Doc sighed and shrugged, he was afraid that J was going to opt for that. He had J toss on a gown, a cap, gloves, and a mask; and he would almost pass as a legit surgical nurse if he hadn't of still had his warpaint smeared on. Doc attached a pint of AB negative blood to the IV in her right arm and went to work on the arrow, having Joker hold the metal shaft as he used a striker bone saw to cut through it. The arrow had thankfully gone through and through, no vital organs or arteries hit; Genevieve had been lucky. For the most part, Doc had Joker just assist by handing him different instruments and suctioning here and there. The hard part for Doc was reattaching severed nerves and debriding tissue that had been overly contused and was dying within the wound. Doc was surprised at how focused Joker was during the entire procedure and had even complimented that he would have made a decent surgical nurse in another life.

"I, Uh, _build bombs and detonators _for fun Doc, that shit takes concentration and precision, _thank you very much," _Joker replied as though building weapons of mass destruction and surgical procedures were taught in the same lecture halls. Doc stitched her closed as neatly as he could, but the damage was what it was, and he was sure that she would have a good-sized scar to go with the others that she had cut into herself. There were a number of her self-inflicted cuts that needed Doc's attention as well, but instead of leaving, Joker stayed behind and watched as Doc cleaned, debrided, and stitched them closed. Her blood Glucose was down to 500 and dropping due to Doc placing her on a steady insulin drip; he had also kept her on oxygen, given her antibiotics, and kept her on fluids.

"She's not out of the woods yet. Reversing all of the effects of Diabetic Ketoacidosis is no mean feat; adding the arrow injury and loss of blood, I still don't know if she'll make it. She's going to need a second transfusion too, and I'm out of AB Negative. Hopefully she holds up while I go grab more from St. Teresa's." Doc said, placing his instruments in the sterilizing unit.

"How much does she need?" Joker asked, planting his ass on the nearest chair and taking out his butterfly knife; he desperately needed something to do with his hands.

"A pint would help at this point, just until I can bring by more. Johnny's AB Negative if I remember my files correctly-

"Johnny's been taking bump's from the stash Har-vey left here; his blood's not clean. Besides, have you _seen _the broads Johnny _fucks? _A hogs ass covered in manure is cleaner." Joker chuckled, flicking the blade back and forth and watching the steel catch the bright O.R. lighting.

"I think I have a pint to _spare, _Doc. I'm O Negative, remember? Universal donor." Joker reminded him, the idea of being inside of Genevieve in any capacity suddenly sounding pleasing and euphoric to him.

"And your blood _is _clean?" Doc asked, just a little perturbed at the idea that Joker wasn't on some kind of drug.

"Clean as a whistle, Doc. All the crazy is just…me." He said, flipping the blade closed and rolling up his sleeve.

An hour later, Genevieve looked slightly tan and her respirations were where they were supposed to be. Doc had gone to St. Teresa's Hospital to get more blood and other medical supplies they were low on and Joker ordered Johnny to stand guard outside the Surgical Room door until Doc returned. Joker took his Cadillac and several packs of cigarettes and drove to Genevieve's home, her keys jingling on his belt as he went. The home stood empty and dark like a skull as Joker pulled his car into the vacant garage, letting himself in quietly through the garage door and into a spacious kitchen that he could imagine Victor having coffee in every morning before work. The home itself was neat and orderly and made Joker want to reach out and break something to make it look lived in. He made a quick beeline for the stairs and took them two at a time, whistling softly as he went. The first bedroom he encountered was indeed his old pal Victors room; everything just as he had left it. The bed looked slept in and unmade, the walk-in closet hung with dress shirts, suits, ties; rows of shoes sat polished on their shelves, waiting for an owner that would never return. Even a laundry basket containing slept in pajamas was tucked near Victors dresser; as though Genevieve hadn't the heart to wash them. There was an old photo on the night stand depicting a happy Victor, Wife, and child someplace sunny and a newer photo of Victor and Genevieve together at the shop, sewing tape wrapped around both of their shoulders as they smiled at the camera. Joker took the two frames and vacated the bedroom, moving on to the next room and seeing that it was a guest room, he slammed the door shut and continued down the hall until he came to a door with a Lakota medicine wheel hung on it.

"So, we did take on mommies genetics after all…." Joker mused out loud, pushing the door open and being met with the aroma of sweet grass, lilac, rosemary, mint, and sage. Purple. Purple everything for as far as the eye could see; from the walls to the bed to the furniture. Genevieve's room was not as ordered as Victors had been; it was more an organized chaos if anything; there was a half-dressed mannequin near the window wearing a yet to be finished buckskin dress with intricate beading, books lay haphazardly strewn across every surface, including the bed. A very large and intricate dreamcatcher hung above her bed, eagle and hawk feathers trailing down onto the headboard. On every surface in the room as far as Joker could see, there was something hinting towards the Native American Heritage of its owner; figurines of warriors in tribal regalia, wolves howling at the moon, and a larger figurine of a Coyote; a clown mask hung from one paw as it seemed to be dancing on its hind legs, a banner displaying the name 'Trickster' furled at the bottom. Joker picked up the Coyote statue with interest, mouthing the name 'Trickster', and deciding that he would have to research what that was all about later. He made a mental note to do some research on Native American tradition and beliefs just to familiarize himself and try to see if there was a way to work on Genevieve a bit easier. He began packing her clothes into a large gym bag he found in her closet, committing her sizes to memory as he took his time sifting through her underwear drawers, enjoying the feel of satin and silk and lace he found there. He went into her bathroom next, taking the toiletries from her shower and the make up bag from her vanity along with her hair straightener and hair dryer. Joker paused as he turned towards the bathroom closet, shuddering as he fished out two packs of pads and a box of tampons. She had better be fucking worth all of the shit he was going through. If she survived at all, he didn't need her bleeding all over his goddamned sheets. He moved on to her medicine cabinet next; bagging up all of the prescription meds she had there, the alcohol swabs, the syringes, the testing strips, the lancets. He retrieved a suitcase from Victors closet and filled it with her jewelry box, her books and sketchbooks, adding her pencil and charcoal box on top before zippering it shut. Joker took everything down to the Cadillac and packed it into the trunk, running back into the kitchen and whipping open the refrigerator irritably, he shoved things aside mumbling curses under his breath until he hit pay dirt in the veggie crisper in the form of six vials of unopened insulin.

"Suicidal bitch…and people call _me _crazy," he said, taking an ice pack from the freezer and stuffing it and the insulin into an insulated lunch tote he found on the granite counter top. A sudden barking from next door caught his attention and he looked out the kitchen window to the neighbors' yard and frowned; Victors Dog was in the neighbors' yard, barking and whining and trying his best to leap the fence when he caught sight of Joker. He and Anubis went way back to when Anubis was a puppy; because Joker owned Anubis' parents as well as a dozen other guard dogs he kept to guard his hideout. He slid the back door open and stepped out onto the patio, giving a short and low whistle. Anubis easily bounded over the fence with an eager yip of happiness and ran to Jokers side, wagging his short stubby cropped tail nub and whining; his large brown eyes a mix of happiness and utter adoration for the man before him.

"Do ya miss Mommy? Huh boy?" Joker asked the enormous Cane Corso, scratching him fondly behind the ears. The elephantine dog collapsed at Jokers feet, exposing his belly in submission and trust, jowls flapping to the sides as he laid flat out on his back. Joker would never EVER admit it to anyone without eventually killing them that he had a fondness for dogs that went deeper than he would care to admit. He took excellent care of his guard dogs at home; feeding them on a raw meat and veggie diet, keeping a Vet on call on his books that also provided grooming services, and taking them into his private courtyard and running them through drill sessions in his spare time. Not only did this serve as an avenue to occupy and focus his mind when he was Manic; it also ensured the dogs' utmost loyalty towards their master, which always came in handy in his line of work.

"Alright ya big lug, let's go home and get you back to your Mother, shall we?" Joker asked, ushering Anubis into the kitchen and shutting and locking the back door behind them. Joker grabbed the remaining baggage and led the gigantic pooch to his Cadillac in the garage, chuckling at the mess of drool Johnny Frost would have to clean off of the leather seats in the back. As Joker pulled away from the house on its quaint suburban street, his private cell phone rang; flashing Johnny's number across its screen.

"Speak of the _Devil. _Yes?" He answered tersely, irritated that he had to drive at the speed limit because he was keeping his fucking head low from the Pigs.

"Boss, Doc is back and he needs you. The Girl isn't doing so hot, she had a bad seizure and tore her stitches. Doc says she's got an internal hemorrhage and he needs to go back in and operate to close it; says she might not make it." Johnny summarized quickly, sensing his boss' irritation. Joker sighed heavily, his jaw muscles twitching as he fought the urge to speed through the red light ahead of him.

"Tell Doc I'm on my way," Joker growled, tossing the cell on his passenger seat.

"Your _Mother _is just a bag of shits and giggles, Anubis. She's just fucking determined to die; and between you and me, if I didn't _Need _her and if I hadn't made that fucking promise to Victor, I'd put her out of her misery already."


	5. Recovery???

Hello there to all of my fellow inmates here at the Asylum!

I wanted to take the time to thank you all for the amazing reviews, the follows, and the all-around positivity! It sure helps a helluva lot more than the meds do!!! I am so excited to share this fic with all of you! I am having the time of my life with this story J

Chapter 4: Recovery???

Joker parked the car in his underground garage below the warehouse and bounded out of the vehicle with an agitated energy; Anubis quickly trotting behind him, tongue lolling and seemingly without a care in the world. Joker jammed his key into his private elevator and pressed the call button impatiently as the young Cane Corso stared up at him balefully, yellow eyes watchful and alert as though eager to serve. _If only humans were that fuckin loyal and attentive, _he thought biting his bottom lip and sucking on the flesh of it pensively as he wondered if Genevieve would survive the night. Maybe she was dead already?

_No, Johnny or Doc would’ve called if that was the case; _

He boarded the elevator with Anubis and pressed the button for the top floor, or as he referred to it; the Penthouse. Joker had converted the topmost floor of the warehouse into a luxury loft-style living space where he enjoyed some fucking peace and quiet with the exception of the occasional interruption from Johnny Frost or Seth Gecko; the only 2 men he trusted enough to keep long term. They had been with him for years now and would probably die on his payroll; nobody really left Joker’s employ any other way. Joker tossed his purple overcoat onto the black leather sofa as he exited the elevator, patting Anubis on the head mindlessly as one of his females (a distant cousin of Anubis’) came over to investigate her relatives’ arrival. He snatched an energy drink from the fridge and popped his neck with a jerk of his head, shaking off the stiffness with a characteristic amount of manic energy as he made his way to the thick steel door that lead to the stairwell. Anubis made to pad along beside him but Joker pointed gruffly to the ground, making direct eye contact with the canine.

“Stay!” he ordered, causing the giant dog to halt and sit back on his haunches.

“If I could teach you to drive and teach you to shoot I wouldn’t need any of those _fucking morons _downstairs Boy,” He told Anubis as he scratched him behind his cropped ears and closed and locked the heavy door behind him. The stairwell was dimly lit and the cement walls and stairs created a cool and refreshing atmosphere as he jogged down several flights to reach the ground floor; his mood becoming more acerbic the closer to the ground level he got. Seth and Johnny both leapt up from their seats at a rickety card table as their boss appeared, tossing their hands down to abandon their game and await orders. Joker ignored them completely and made his way into the surgical room where Doc was bent over Genevieve who looked, if possible; even more pale than before. Joker could see by the monitors that her vitals were thready and by the amount of scarlet towels and gauze that littered the floor around her bed, she had very nearly bled out. 

“This is pretty serious J,” Doc said gruffly without looking up as he focused on re-suturing her shoulder wound.

“I _know, _Doc. What’re you the king of stating the fucking obvious? What are we looking at now? Mortality rate? Any brain damage?” He snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. Doc paused his bandaging and frowned at his boss.

“There’s no brain damage, but we’ve got to get her vitals stable and watch like a hawk for infection; not to mention keeping her glucose under control. My professional opinion? This girl is stubborn as hell, J. I don’t think she’s going anywhere without a bullet to the head. She still has a helluva long road to haul though and it’s not going to be easy for her…..” Doc trailed off uneasily.

“_But??” _Joker prompted Doc to continue.

Doc looked at his Boss for a moment, wondering if he should really vocalize the questions that were forming in his head about this entire situation; then he sighed and delved in balls first to get it over with.

“How important is this woman, J?” He asked, knowing as soon as he saw the flash in Jokers eyes that was akin to the glint of a sprung switchblade that he had fucked up by asking. Joker advanced on him immediately and had him pressed against the wall before Doc was aware that he had moved an inch. There was the shock of cold and unforgiving steel pressed to his jugular and a pair of deep dark eyes as fathomless as black holes boring into his own. Jokers tongue flicked out to swipe across his scars and the movement reminded Doc of a Cobra closing in for the kill.

“Let’s uh, just _say _that if her heart stops beating; so does _yours_, huh?” He sneered, shoving away from the wall and returning to Genevieve’s bedside, the knife disappearing into one of his many pockets so quickly that Doc wondered if he had imagined its presence after all until a warm droplet of blood trailed down his collar where The Clown had gotten a little too close for comfort.

“You need to set your equipment up for another transfusion in the morning; we need to stock up until we’re sure the internal bleeding is under control. Are we stocked well on Dilantin and Tegretol in case we have to deal with seizure activity?” Joker said levelly; the murderous mood passing away as quickly as it had come. Doc swallowed and cleared his throat quickly, straightening from his position against the wall and coming to stand at his bosses’ side once more.

“You can’t safely donate blood that often J, I just grabbed some more AB Negative from St. Teresa’s when I went for a supply run while you were out; I mean they’re a little low too but-

“I said I would do it in the morning. Just have your shit set up, Doc. I didn’t come here for a _fucking science lesson. _I’m here to hand out orders and you usually take ‘em just fine too. I _like you _Doc; so why don’t ya just do yourself a favor and quit pissing in my cheerios, hmm?” Joker growled, leaning over and hanging a new bag of fluids and connecting it to one of Genevieve’s I.V. ports smoothly. It made Doc wonder again when and where Joker had received medical training and why he was so knowledgeable in the plethora of subjects that he was knowledgeable in. Seth had told Doc to mind his business more than once already in regard to his musings about their bosses’ past and after having a knife pressed to his jugular tonight Seth’s advice had brought that point home to him more than he cared to admit.

“I want to bring her upstairs; I don’t like her this close to the boys. Is it safe to move her if we use the elevator?” Joker’s voice cut across Doc’s musings and the question he asked made Doc’s blood run cold with shock. Nobody went upstairs to stay other than J. Sure, Johnny and Seth delivered groceries, cigarettes, booze, weapons and occasionally schematics for J’s more intricate plans; but they didn’t stay. Upstairs was J’s _home. _It was his private sanctuary where he slept, shaved, showered, ate, raised his dogs and (according to Johnny) walked around without his infamous war paint on at times; though only Johnny and Seth had ever been privy to that particular sight.

“Yeah J, it’s safe to move her. We doing that tonight?” Doc asked, trying to keep his voice neutral; like, strange broad upstairs, no biggie.

“We’re doing it now while only Johnny and Seth are here. The less eyes, the better.” Joker replied, attaching Genevieve’s oxygen tubing to a portable tank and laying the tank on the bed at her feet.

Genevieve was aware of a deep pulsing ache in her shoulder and chest and a heaviness that she was not comfortable with; she had been drugged apparently. But by whom? She tried to open her eyes, twitch her fingers, open her lips; but the commands were lost to her completely. It was as though her brain and her body were detached and her brain was fogged and slow to understand the noises and smells and voices around her. She heard The Joker several times coming in and out of wherever she was; his voice with its unique tone and inflection were impossible to mistake. There was another voice that was quiet and calm that spoke to Joker as well at times, answering questions that she both understood and did not understand at all. Joker would come after quiet and calm left and he would talk to her and several times she felt him touch her hands, do something to her I.V.s (she had heard Joker talk about them to calm and quiet and she finally understood that the pain in her lower left arm were I.V.s) and he would say things to her and laugh and it made her irritated because she really only wanted to sleep so that she wouldn’t hurt anymore. Genevieve wanted to punch him now particularly hard because now whatever he was doing was tugging her hair and hurting her scalp. She heard water and the noise of machines beeping regularly and she wanted to crawl away from it all. _Why can’t he just let me die???_

“Get out. I’ll call you back in when I’m finished.” Joker growled, licking the scars around his lips as he methodically removed the stitches from the now mostly healed self-inflicted wounds on her forearms. He had spent twenty minutes raking the tangles out of her long curtain of hair and once the stitches were out, he would be bathing her again and changing her gown; but he didn’t need Doc being an audience to that. Doc had already gotten just about enough of an eyeful of Jokers………_ what should he call her? House guest? That was neutral ground for now…_

Doc swallowed nervously, looking awfully worried about the girl, but backing out of the door of Jokers bedroom, nonetheless.

An hour later, she was washed and changed, and Joker was tossing towels and her dirty gown in a hamper, when he heard her whisper behind him.

“J?” Her eyes were slits as she squinted at him attempting to rise from the bed and falling back with a grunt.

“Lay down Vieve, I don’t need you springing a leak again. Doc and I have already had to play operation on you twice you know,” He said, sitting down beside her on the bed and making her dizzy for a moment as she tried and failed to gather her thoughts. He was wearing a dark grey shirt that she remembered designing and sewing for him at least a year ago and she tried to focus on the subtle patterns of black silk embroidery in an effort to remain conscious.

“I’m……….. I’m so tired,” She murmured, her voice a weakened husk that she didn’t recognize.

“Drink this,” He said, putting a bottle of water to her lips and helping her sip it slowly; she felt his hand at the back of her head and it was all that kept her upright at all.

“Your Glucose is crap so your body’s ability to heal is also crap, Capiche?” He asked as she continued to feel her shoulder throb along with her head. It was too fucking bright in this room; couldn’t he turn off the lights and let her sleep or die? Whichever was easier? If she knew the location of her purse, she could’ve have reached her gun and decided for him with as much pain as she was in.

“Where am I?” Genevieve asked instead, she was trying like hell to focus since he seemed to still be sitting at her side for some strange reason.

“We’ll call it my house; it’s actually one of several that I keep. I move around a lot,” He replied with a shrug.

“And you want something from me?” Genevieve persisted, reaching to remove the oxygen cannula from her nose because it was annoying her; but he stayed her hand with his own.

“_Listen Vieve, _I don’t want to have to strap you down here, but I will if I have to keep telling you to stay still. I’m a man who doesn’t often repeat himself, it isn’t in my nature. Lemme lay down some ground rules here; and since you’re a little groggy, we’ll just cover the basics and eventually add to them when I feel that you can concentrate more. Don’t try to sit up without assistance, the oxygen stays in place, if I tell you to take a pill or drink water or eat; you do it without question. You will be resuming a normal insulin regimen and if you try to refuse, you will be handcuffed to a chair or this bed and I’ll inject you anyways; you are not to go downstairs ever unless I bring you there. Do you understand?” Joker asked plaintively. Genevieve studied him for a moment with as much focus and concentration as she could muster, but even in her weak and sleepy haze, she could tell that the rules were non-negotiable and she didn’t have the energy or will to argue anyhow.

“I understand,” She replied softly, her exhaustion making her boneless as he prepped her finger for another finger stick with an alcohol swab.

“Good……. That’s my girl,” He said as the darkness claimed her once more.


	6. chapter 6: Healer Heal Thyself

Genevieve awoke late afternoon just as the sun was setting and she glanced around groggily trying to gage whether or not Doc or Joker were around; but she was apparently alone in the room. She had been completely out of it for the past week and it had been mostly Doc that had been looking after her while a man Named Seth was in and out with food and medical supplies. Joker was there to make sure that she took her medication and would look over the info that Doc would provide him on her slightly improved condition, but he seemed preoccupied at best. Doc had cleared her to at least sit up on her own and she was eating small meals, but she was nearly always tired and weak and there were times she would remember the weight of a body next to her or the sound of Jokers voice, but not recall much of what he had said to her. When she rolled over she studied the other side of the bed and realized that there was an indentation where his head had been and the scent of gunpowder, smoke, his expensive cologne, and something else that was just naturally Him. Genevieve frowned suddenly upon hearing a commotion in the next room and climbed out of bed clumsily, shoving her nightgown down and shoving her hair out of her face.

“Get another four by four and press hard! Fuck! Get me another bag of platelets, he’s pouring like a sieve. Johnny, grab that cart and get it over here now!” Doc’s voice was high and agitated as she opened the bedroom door to peek outside into the Loft’s living space for the first time. Her jaw dropped when she saw Joker prone and lifeless on the hospital bed that she had occupied just a few days prior; blood oozing from gunshot wounds to his chest and abdomen. His customary make-up was smeared, and his green hair crusted over with dirt and sweat. She flung the door wide then and came racing to his bedside, reluctant to use her gifts in front of Doc, Seth, and Johnny; but she really had no other choice.

“Are you fucking kidding me Gidget? Get the fuck outta here!” Seth shouted, attempting to shove her out of the way when she called her energy forth, making a wide and sweeping gesture to knock Seth out of her way. The telekinetic pulse took him flying clean over the leather sofa to crash onto the coffee table in front of it; but the Italian marble it was made of held firm beneath him leaving him winded on top of it. Genevieve moved forward then, creating a shield around her and Joker and placing her palms against his chest over the wounds; wincing as she felt her hands immersed in the warm blood soaking his shirt, the wounds were wide and gaping and she wondered briefly if she had the strength necessary to pull this off. She began chanting the way her Mother had taught her in the stories that she had told her, trying to concentrate the best way she knew how. Genevieve had never healed anyone before in her life. Sure, she had played with her telekinesis (Seth crawling off of the coffee table in her peripheral was proof enough of that as it were,) she had done basic and advanced protection shields years prior (which she had trouble conjuring when she was depressed) but healing was a new animal for her completely.

“_Wakan Tanka_, Look upon your Daughter, and see this Man before you. _Wioheumpata, Itokaga, Wiyokpiyata, Waziyata, _Look upon this _Iktomi_\- this man you have incarnated with the spirit of Trickster- and heal him as I command. _Wakan Tanka, _take what you require of my spirit from me so that you may bring him back from the edge. _Wioheumpata, Itokaga, Wiyokpiyata, Waziyata; He-ay-he-ee! He-ay-he-ee! He-ay-he-ee!” _A great wind blew open the windows of the loft space and the skies outside turned from murky blue to purple and blood red with streaks of orange as bright as fire as Genevieve continued to chant and channel her healing powers through Joker.

“What the fuck?!” Johnny exclaimed as the blood which had previously soaked the entire front of his boss’ clothing appeared to recede back into his body right before their eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, let her concentrate. Fuck knows we’re pretty much useless to J right now; this broad’s his only shot,” Seth hissed, planting himself between Johnny and Genevieve with grim resolve in his eyes. Johnny backed away numbly, taking a seat on the leather sofa that Seth had flown over minutes before and lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. Doc and Seth watched in awe as Joker’s chest began to rise and fall again and there was no sign of blood to be found as Genevieve slumped slightly forward, using the medical bed for support as she tried to blink the blurriness from her vision.

“What do you need?” Seth asked, taking her elbow and trying to get her to focus enough to tell him how to help her.

“I need my purse, please tell me that you know where it is,” She said shakily as Doc came forward to hand her a bottle of water.

“Yeah, here; take a seat over here at the dining room table. I’ll be right back; you, check on the Boss, you, keep an eye on Doc Jr.” Seth said, doling out orders to Doc and Johnny respectively.

Seth disappeared momentarily into another room, reappearing with the purse they had retrieved from the tailor shop over a week ago. Johnny stood at Genevieve’s side anxiously as though he thought that she might suddenly detonate like a rogue missile. Doc tore open Jokers shirt and gasped, seeing that the previously fatal bullet wounds had become halfway healed; and though his blood pressure was still low, and his heart rate was slower than usual, he was alive and would most certainly pull through now.

“He’ll be fine now; he just needs rest.” Doc told Seth and Johnny as he clipped a pulse oximeter to Jokers left index finger and began prepping an I.V. site.

“Keep him drugged up if you want him to stay down for the night. You know how much he can tolerate,” Seth reminded him warily, plunking the purse in front of Genevieve on the table. He levelled a gun at her head, and they stared at one another for a long minute, Johnny and Doc fading away into the background.

“Look Princess, I know that you’ve got a piece stashed away in there, so if that’s what you’re going for you can forget it.” He said, cocking the .38 special in his hand conversationally as though they might be discussing the weather.

“I just saved your Boss’s ass, why the fuck would I want to kill you?” Genevieve asked, looking at Seth like he needed a helmet.

“What’s in there that you need then?” He pressed, stepping forward cautiously making her snort derisively.

“I need a piece of bark to chew that’s in a pill bottle at the bottom of my bag. Get it out yourself if that’ll make you feel better,” She said shoving her purse in his direction and leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed. She needed to conserve her remaining strength; and arguing with this moron was going to get her nowhere. Seth dug into the purple and black leather bag, his fingers brushing past the cool steel of the gun within and finding the bottle she had indicated.

“What’s it do?” He asked her when he handed it over, lowering his piece, but not holstering it.

“Restores my powers after healing someone like that,” She replied, popping a piece of the sacred bark in her mouth and sucking it into the side of her cheek to soften it slightly before beginning to chew; wincing at the bitter taste.

“Well that’s great Gidget, but if I end up airborne again, I’m gonna knock you on your ass; I don’t give a fuck that you’re a girl, got it?” Seth said irritably.

“Genevieve,” She said flatly, taking a slow swig from the bottle of water that Doc had provided her.

“Excuse me?” He asked disbelievingly.

“My fucking name is Genevieve, Seth. I’m sure that you know that already too, so don’t fucking call me Gidget, or I’ll make that flight over the couch look like a goddamn football fumble! I’m not sitting here disrespecting you, so don’t fucking stand there disrespecting me,” She snapped, meeting his eyes levelly without flinching. This girl was either fearless, crazy, stupid, or a mix of the three. Nobody in Joker’s employ ever spoke to Seth that way, not even Johnny Frost had the balls.

“You got a death wish Genevieve?” He asked softly, a muscle working in his jaw as he studied her sitting before him defiantly.

“Do you?” She asked, arching a brow in question. Seth looked at her a minute longer before holstering his piece and grinning, shaking his head in amusement.

“Jesus, you really are Victor’s kid.” He told her gruffly, walking over to the bar across the room and pouring himself a drink. Genevieve rolled her shoulders and decided to give Seth a pass for his mouth because she knew that Joker wanted him alive and also because she needed information if they were going to fix the damage that was done to J’s image and street cred today.

“Look, we have work to do. What time is it?” She asked, standing from the table feeling more alert, her powers tingling at the tips of her fingers as she made her way to the fridge and grabbed a can of Monster.

“We have work to do? What the hell are you talking about now?” Johnny asked anxiously, looking between her and Seth as though he wasn’t sure which poker player to keep his eye on.

“We need to act before J loses face. Who did this anyways?” She asked, knowing that whoever they were, Joker probably took a good chunk of their labor force down with him. 

“We’re at fucking odds with Maroni again, but he ain’t coming back into J’s good graces this time. He’s a rat and he’s fucked now.” Seth replied with a shrug, knowing the mans fate like so many others who had dared cross Joker in the past.

“We need to act tonight if we’re going to send a message to Maroni and the other families though, you and I both know that.” Genevieve replied, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed.

“Well, at least Victor taught you well. What do you have in mind? I mean fuck, if its good, I might even do it,” Seth said as he tossed another shot back smoothly.

“You? No, I’m coming with. I have a good idea of how to send a good fucking message to these assholes; Dad hated the Maroni’s. If you knew him at all, then you knew that.” She said, heading back in the direction of the bedroom.

“J would never go for that; you can’t just expect me to let you-

“Let me? _Let me? _Nobody ‘lets’ me do any goddamn thing. J saved my ass, so I owe him a favor and I’m not just going to stand by and let you guys fight alone. It’s a fucking suicide mission if you go out there without a little something extra. That’s where I come in,” She said wiggling her fingers in the air to conjure a tiny burst of sparks, making Johnny jump slightly.

“What do you have in mind?” Seth asked curiously, wanting to call her bluff if she was trying to put one over on him.

“Does Joker still have that M134D Gatling machine gun?” Genevieve asked curiously.

“Yeah,” Johnny replied slowly.

“And the motorcycle?” She asked hopefully.

“Yes we do, why?” Seth asked, wondering what the hell this crazy bitch had in mind.

“We need that Gatling Gun welded to the handlebars of the motorcycle pronto, I’ll be driving that, and I’ll be able to go at it hands free with my telekinesis. You guys need to gather explosives, guns, and the flame-thrower that J used on the Bat and get it loaded into the panel truck. I’ve got to get dressed and put my warpaint on. We should leave around 9 or 10 tonight,” Genevieve said briskly, glad to have something to do after her Father’s death and her week-long convalescence.

“How do we know we can trust you with that amount of firepower?” Seth persisted, making Genevieve roll her eyes and sigh.

“If I wanted all of you dead and this building down around my ears, I could have it with the snap of my fingers now that my abilities have been restored and I’m not suffering from heart-wrenching bereavement.” She replied over her shoulder, shutting the door and whipping open the bags that Joker had brought from her house. True to her hopes, he had brought along all of her best purple; giving her a plethora of outfits to chose from. She pulled out a pair of shiny pleather purple pants and a matching leather corset, topping it off with a plum leather halter jacket and black leather ankle boots. Doc wheeled the medical bed in with an unconscious Joker in it into the room slowly, attaching an IV drip to the hooks above it as Genevieve was pulling out Joker’s greasepaint thoughtfully. She smeared a black bar across her eyes and painted a blood red handprint across her mouth, clipping an eagle feather into her hair to complete the look she was going for.

** **

** ( Queue the music here; Rollin’ By Limp Bizkit and Click Click Boom By Saliva. It really sets the mood!) **

Two hours later, the mods to the motorcycle were complete as Genevieve broke her first rule and made her way downstairs to the common area where Joker’s flunkies and expendables could be found hanging out. Genevieve strolled in with her Fathers gun holstered at her hip and several knives stashed in her halter jacket. J’s lackies were either gathered playing cards or flopped onto couches and chairs surrounding a big screen TV watching a football game. Seth and Johnny made their way in behind her from the garage, having loaded the motorcycle and their cache of weapons into the panel truck.

“Get your asses in gear boys, we got a job to do.” Seth announced, stashing his own guns in their respective holsters as well. The men stood, looking confused and shifting foot to foot; they weren’t used to receiving orders from anyone other than Joker. A tall bloated thug Joker had nicknamed Chuckles suddenly burst out laughing pointing at Genevieve and guffawing louder.

“Check out Pocahontas!” He gasped, causing the men around him to shift away from him, their eyes downcast as they sensed he had made a huge mistake. Genevieve jerked the gun from its holster and shot Chuckles between the eyes neatly, re-holstering the .45 before his body hit the ground.

“Anybody else wanna see more colors of the wind or are we ready to hit the road?” She asked calmly, pausing to look at the men closest to her before following Seth and Johnny out to the panel truck.

“You just called Shot gun Genevieve,” Seth said as Johnny and the expendables loaded into the back.

“Sweet!” She replied, hopping up into the cabs passenger seat as Seth took the Drivers, throwing the massive vehicle into drive and starting out onto the road that lead through the Narrows towards mid-town.

“You did the right thing shooting that asshole without hesitation; J was right to bring you here,” Seth said, which she knew was his way of apologizing for giving her shit earlier; apparently she had impressed him by blowing that racist asshole away.

“Has he said why he brought me here though?” She asked as they sped around a corner precariously.

“Nope. Joker isn’t the talkative type with a lot of things and he never shares his reasons with us, he’s the Boss and his word is law. That’s rule one to survival here; and you’re already going to hear shit for this little stunt of yours when he wakes up and hears about all of this by the way; good intentions be damned.” He told her honestly, swerving around an abandoned car in the street and speeding up again.

“I know, I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t splatter me across three towns, but I have to do this. I think he wants to know what I’m capable of anyways; He wants to see what I can do.” Genevieve said softly, staring out of the window at the crumbling and boarded up facades they were flying by.

“Maybe,” Seth said with a shrug, lighting a cigarette and popping his zippo into the small tray between them.

“What happened earlier though, details; not just ‘Maroni blah-blah,’ Joker doesn’t strike me as a guy who just gets caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, I’ve been following him on the news for years, what was he trying to do by getting himself killed?” She asked curiously.

“Like I said, Boss isn’t Mr. Share-your-plans-guy. He plays it close to the vest at all times and to be honest; half the time I think he doesn’t even fully know all the particulars until he’s in the middle of it, you know? He lives by rules of organized chaos. We’re getting close here, what’s your next move Warrior Woman?” Seth asked with a smirk.

“Those are Maroni’s storefronts and his restaurant up ahead, I’m going out with the motorcycle first, so slow down and give me about a four car-length lead, you and the guys bring up the rear. Use the explosives as soon as you see these fucks run out and start shooting, got it?” She asked, swinging out of her seat and opening the sliding panel that led to the back.

“I’m not actually stopping to let you off?” Seth asked, non-plussed.

“Seth, what fun would that be? Geeze.” She replied, strolling past the lackies and mounting the motorcycle, kicking it into gear and blasting the back of the truck open with a telekinetic surge. The men closest to the back dodged out of the way when Genevieve released the clutch and sped down the ramp in a shower of sparks as it scraped the asphalt beneath it. The bike turned on a dime at her urging and sped alongside the panel truck, bypassing it as Seth slowed down and she accelerated faster until she was in the lead, the trucks engine a soft alto compared to the bikes thunderous baritone below her. She let her telekinesis whip the Gatling Gun into position and when she was 100 feet from the restaurant she began firing rapidly, the shell casings pinging off the chrome of the bike as she shot, glass shattering and dust flying from mortar as the men within panicked and hit the ground; others began returning fire as they jumped out of the ruined restaurant and shop windows and Genevieve saw sprays of red as her bullets hit home. Seth and Johnny followed her up with the grenade launcher and the expendables began tossing Molotov Cocktails haphazardly; Maroni’s men had zero chance against their arsenal as they picked them off cleanly. Genevieve circled the truck, making another sweep with the Gatling Gun before the grenades detonated and their world was filled with fire and smoke. She saw Maroni’s sedan drive up then, just as it had driven up to her Fathers shop so many times in the past; her Fathers shop had been neutral ground, this was not. Genevieve shot the driver and the two bodyguards that exited the car first cleanly, then she waited for Salvatore himself to face death like a man, but her hopes were dashed when he crawled from the car with his hands up; pleading for his life. Genevieve dismounted the bike then and strode towards Maroni mercilessly; all of the anger and sadness and rage she had felt boiling beneath the surface since her Fathers death exploded and left her body charged with a pulsating energy that was begging to be released, and for right now it was channeling itself towards him.

“Please……please, who are you? Why are you doing this?” He sobbed on his hands and knees as he crawled towards her, reaching for his gun when he thought she didn’t notice. She knocked the gun from his hand with a jerk of her own and grabbed him by the hair of the head, dragging him on his knees closer to the fire and the ruin of everything that he had worked for over decades.

“Look at this! Look!!!” She shrieked, forcing his head up to peer through the smoke and flames to the dead bodies of his men both in and surrounding the buildings before him.

“I didn’t do this. We didn’t do this; _you fucking did this._ You’re gonna be an example Sal, a fine fucking example of why you never cross The Joker.” Genevieve said, shoving him away from her, unsheathing the tomahawk from her back.

“Please…. Why? Why?” He sobbed again, cowering at her feet like the wuss he had always been.

“You know what sucks about this whole thing?” She asked conversationally sweet.

“Wha… What?” He asked, looking hopeful that she’d let him live.

“You’re wearing one of Dad’s suits,” She hissed.

“Gen…Genevieve?” He asked disbelievingly as she swung the tomahawk with all of her force, lopping his head clean off. She watched for a moment as it rolled and skittered away like an errant coconut that someone dropped at the supermarket until it came to rest against the tire of the now abandoned sedan. Johnny Frost blanched as Genevieve removed a knife from her pocket and carved a large red **J** into the forehead before picking it up by the hair and setting it atop a parking meter in front of the burning buildings they had destroyed.

“Get the bike back onto the truck,” She ordered one of the lackies, making a shooing motion with her hand. The man sprang into action and loaded the bike as she climbed back into the passenger side of the cab. Johnny and the rest of the expendables piled into the back and Seth climbed in beside her, popping another cigarette into his mouth and offering one to Genevieve, grinning as he lit her smoke while Mid-Town burned around them.

“Damn girl, you are one crazy bitch.” He complimented as they drove off taking a roundabout route back to the Narrows to make sure they weren’t followed.

“Seth, flattery will get you nowhere.” She replied with a wink. The cab filled with rock music and their laughter as Genevieve rolled down her window and let out a whoop, her chest lighter than it had been in a long while…..


	7. Chapter 7: Settling In

Chapter 7 Settling In

It was past midnight by the time they made their roundabout way back to the seafront hideout at the docks in the Narrows. Genevieve followed Seth back up to the loft while Johnny and the remaining expendables unloaded the motorcycle and the artillery. Doc had kept Joker under with a heavy dose of painkiller and antipsychotic, and he was still sleeping deeply when she re-entered the bedroom to change and shower. Seth had demanded that she eat something in order to take her final injection for the evening and he wouldn’t budge on it, so she was forced to choke down a Caesar salad wrap before sticking herself for the final time for the day under Doc’s watchful eye. She sat on the side of the bed awkwardly afterwards, one of her books dug out of the suitcases and held firmly in her hands unopened as she watched Joker’s chest rise and fall steadily. She had noticed that his smudged greasepaint was still caking his face and it irked her for some reason; to know that Doc had cared for him so half-assed and left him like this. She made her way back out into the loft’s main living area where Anubis was gnawing happily on a giant chew that he had dug out from one of the many bins of dog toys, wagging his stump of a tail when he saw her. She patted his head absentmindedly as she looked around for Doc, her eyes landing on Seth as he sat watching ESPN and the results of the ball game he had missed.

“Where’s Doc?” She asked softly, taking a seat beside him in her pajamas and studying the trail of the intricate tribal tattoo climbing his neck.

“He’s off to St. Mary’s for a few needed supplies, why? You feeling okay?” He asked her with a frown.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just the Boss I was thinking about. Doc left him in his clothes and greasepaint and he looks like shit……. I mean, I know that he can’t be comfortable like that.” She said hesitantly.

“Ugh, shit. I figured that he’d be uh….. a little less than enthusiastic to touch J more than he has to,” Seth said, rising to his feet and moving toward the bedroom. Genevieve made to follow, but Seth halted her in her tracks.

“I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t want you seeing him in his skivvies. Just sit tight and read your book, this shouldn’t take too long.” He told her, disappearing into the room and shutting the door behind him. Genevieve shrugged and tossed the book onto the sofa, stretching her tired muscles and making her way to the fridge for a bottled water. She hated her disease for many reasons, but one of the main ones was that she was perpetually dying of thirst. When she turned on the kitchen light, she heard the excited yips of several canine voices coming from beyond the windows and she gasped, whipping around to peer into the darkness beyond them. Anubis whined anxiously, making his way over to a heavy steel door that Genevieve had figured lead out to the roof the first time she had seen it.

“What is it Boy? Are there other dogs out there?” She whispered, knowing the answer already and wondering why the fuck Joker was keeping dogs on the roof?! What if they jumped off? Genevieve cringed as she imagined some faceless pooches falling to their deaths because of his carelessness; but that picture just didn’t seem right to her. He had seemed almost pissed off at her when he had discovered that she had given Anubis to her neighbors and he had stolen him back and brought him here, where he looked healthy and happy and no worse for his stay. Genevieve stood at the door awkwardly for a moment; debating whether or not she should risk trying to open it. What if she set off an alarm? What if the door was booby-trapped? But both of those scenarios seemed unlikely as well because no one was allowed up here except Seth, Johnny, and Doc; meaning that those precautions would be pretty mute. She flicked the deadbolt and pushed the door open on silent hinges, hearing the sound of falling water and nearly fainting dead in her tracks when the motion sensor lights came on and she took in the sight that greeted her.

An indoor garden the likes of a conservatory greeted her; complete with several large skipping waterfalls, ponds with koi fish as big as house cats, trees, flowers, cascading vines climbing antique archways, and……. Dogs. The first of at least a dozen came bounding up to greet her happily, wagging their tail stumps and jostling one another for position for her attention. Anubis meandered into the group of Cane Corso’s as well, sniffing and licking here and there until he came to one particularly large female and male pair; in front of whom he dropped and rolled over happily, showing his belly in submission. The pair sniffed and licked him in turn and something dawned on Genevieve as she added two and two together; they were Anubis’ parents. Both of them were the same inky-black color as he was, with matching amber-golden eyes and perky cropped ears. Genevieve had received Anubis as a puppy two years ago from her Father; and he had come to her in a purple plastic crate with a big purple satin bow on his neck…..

Joker. Her Father had gotten Anubis from Joker. How long had they known each other? And how deep did that connection really run? Something told her that it had nothing to do with needing clothes.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?! Get back in here before they eat you!” Seth exclaimed through a crack in the door that he was barely holding open a sliver. The dogs immediately charged the door, growling, barking, and snarling at Seth, who immediately jerked it shut.

“Hey! Down!!!! Now!” Genevieve yelled, stomping her foot. The dogs turned back towards her at once with bowed heads and wagging tail stumps, circling back towards her and coming to flop at her feet; tongues lolling from the sides of their mouths and baleful eyes turning from blood-thirsty to apologetic within seconds, much as their Master’s own often did she was sure. Seth’s jaw dropped upon witnessing this and he motioned her back inside through the window urgently, backing well away from the door when she opened it; Anubis trailing in behind her panting with excitement.

Seth had poured himself a shot and was leaning on the bar with his back to her, shaking his head with his shoulders tense. This girl was going to be the death of him; whether it was going to be via Jokers hands or a mass coronary, he wasn’t sure.

“J has those dogs trained to kill on sight unless it’s him that sets foot out there. Those are His dogs, period. They don’t listen to anyone else, they don’t like anyone else, and they will eat anyone else that sets foot past that threshold because that is how he has them trained. How the hell you’re still walking around in one piece, I will never ever know. I also think that I need to mention the fact that if something happens to you on our watch, then J is going to have our asses; so if you can try to be a little more cautious and pretend that you give a shit about your life’s longevity as well as mine, that’d be great.” He sighed, tossing back the shot and pouring another.

“I’m sorry….. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight. I just heard them whining and I was afraid that they were like, on an actual open roof and he couldn’t have given a shit less if they wandered off of it or something. J doesn’t really strike me as a guy that cares for much,” She confessed, hopping up onto a barstool and shaking her head when he offered her the shot he had just poured.

“It’ll help you sleep,” He said, sliding it across the bar to her. Genevieve studied the caramel-colored whiskey for a moment before taking it in her hands and holding it, but not tossing it back quite yet.

“J doesn’t care for much; but the few things that he does care about, he cares about hard. Like those fucking dogs,” Seth said softly, a faraway look in his eyes that was almost haunted.

“They look well cared for, they’re beautiful animals.” She replied, seeing the pack running around with bright eyes, taught muscles, and glistening coats.

“He feeds them a raw diet; steak and lamb and chicken ground with vegetables and grains. I don’t even eat that fucking good. Shit, to be honest those dogs are probably healthier than I am. He exercises them religiously through training and agility courses and gives them freaking vitamin supplements. You only saw one part of the rooftop; besides the garden, there’s the agility courses, the turf where they go to the bathroom, then there’s temperature controlled barracks they have 24 hour access to where they sleep on memory foam mattresses. Not dog beds, actual king size mattresses with blankets and pillows like humans do. The freaking beds get changed once a week and he tosses the laundry down a chute where one of the lackies drives it to get done weekly too. He’s got a vet on the books that’s on-call 24/7 that also does their grooming once a month. I know it’s hard to imagine a guy like him loving anything, but he loves those dogs. He doesn’t give a shit about anything in this world aside from them.” He told her truthfully. Genevieve nodded as she read between the lines of what he was trying to tell her, storing some information as well as some questions for later.

“I should get to bed I guess,” She said softly, downing the shot and wincing slightly at the unfamiliar burn that travelled down her throat to pool in her belly. She left the glass on the bar and retrieved her book and her bottle of water before heading back into the bedroom and quietly closing the door. When she turned towards the bed, she gasped softly at the sight of Joker in a plain black t-shirt and black flannel pajama bottoms; but what shocked her to the core most was his face. Seth had somehow managed to get all of the greasepaint off of him, and aside from the scarred mouth (now less pronounced due to the lack of the garish red that normally graced it) he was quite handsome and looked to be in his mid to late twenties at most. Scratch handsome, he was fucking hot. Genevieve blushed scarlet when she thought of him sleeping next to her in the same bed the night before when she had felt like shit and had been out of it. Jesus fuck, had he been hiding that under the clown paint? She suddenly pictured how he might look in one of her gorgeously cut suits without the makeup and felt warmth gathering in decidedly unfamiliar places. What the fuck was wrong with her? Guys never affected her like this! Then again, he was Joker, not just some random dude hanging around her locker asking her out.

“Are you planning on sleeping at all or are you just going to stare at me all night?” He rasped sardonically, his eyes squinting open partially with a glazed and glassy look. Genevieve startled, taking an involuntary step back and feeling the dresser at her calves and the base of her spine. By the look of his eyes, she decided that he had to be high from the amount of medication Doc had drugged him with.

“Sorry, yeah. I’m going to bed,” She said a bit too quickly for his liking and as she passed the medical bed to get to her own he reached out with surprisingly quick speed and grabbed her by the arm, his face inches from hers as he sat up; the deceptive fog clearing from his pupils rapidly as he checked her over, apparently looking for something but she didn’t know what. Genevieve’s eyes met his own with curiosity instead of fear and he only paused a moment longer before he yanked her forward, his lips colliding with her own and his long fingers tangling into her hair. Genevieve had never kissed anyone before and his spur of the moment actions shocked her into opening her mouth in a gasp; which he took as permission to explore further. His tongue pushed passed her full lips, tasting her and spurring on her hitherto dormant desires to touch and be touched; perhaps she had denied herself for far too long, because now her hands made their way up his chest, passed his neck to cup either side of his face in her hands, her thumbs softly caressing the scars at either side of his lips with gentle need. Joker shoved her away with a hiss and she landed on the bed behind her stunned; her eyes searching his and her face both flushed with longing and embarrassed confusion as to what she had done wrong. He leapt from the bed and ripped the I.V. from his arm irritably, causing dark red blood to begin oozing down his arm as he stumbled and fell to his knees at the foot of the bed to the hardwood floor below, his head hanging as he lurched forward. Apparently he was still high as a kite despite his moment of strength and clarity; his forehead was nearly touching his knees as he doubled over when Genevieve approached him cautiously, not wanting him to hurt himself any further.

“J….” She murmured, hesitantly reaching forward to brush the tendrils of fading green hair from his eyes. He looked up at her glassily once more and stared at her with vacant eyes; she wondered briefly if these were personality shifts that he was experiencing. They had touched on such subjects in her psychology classes in high school. Her analytical thoughts made her chuckle inwardly as she glanced at the numerous scars up and down her arms from her own therapy sessions. Healer, heal thyself….

“Can you stand? We need to get you back into bed and I have to bandage your arm, Doc isn’t here.” She said softly, coming around to his side and reaching her arm around his thin, wiry frame to support him as he rose slowly to his feet. Genevieve caught a whiff of his cologne combined with his unique scent again and she tried to focus as he swerved and sat himself on the bed they had shared the night before.

“Okay….. I guess we’ll switch,” She said, helping him lay back on the pillows and bring his long legs up from the floor. She grabbed a roll of medical tape and some gauze from the dresser where Doc had left them and snatched up the bottle of water she had brought in with her. He stared up at the ceiling blankly as she cleaned and bandaged his arm, healing it partially so that he wouldn’t lose more blood during the night. As she turned away, he snatched her arm again and yanked her down to the bed where she sat awkwardly beside him as he looked into her dark brown eyes.

Again….. no fear, He thought foggily as he studied her in the semi-darkness of his room. Genevieve faltered for a moment, unsure of what she should do before she shrugged and lay down beside him facing him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you earlier.” She said softly, her hand coming forward hesitantly to splay her fingers against one wiry forearm.

For God’s sake, why must she touch him so often? What the fuck had come over her? She thought vaguely, but even as the words came to her mind, some unknown force within urged her to keep her hand where it was. Joker peered at her contemplatively in the dark for a moment before he turned onto his side to face her, pulling her closer to him until they were sharing the same pillow. Their height difference meant that her forehead was touching his shoulder and chest as he began stroking her hair slowly and methodically; almost as one would caress a beloved pet. She struggled to keep her eyes open under his ministrations combined with her first taste of alcohol and her eyelids grew heavy until sleep finally claimed her.

When she awoke mid-morning she felt the warm weight of J’s arm curled around her middle as he slept deeply beside her, making her blush as she studied his face; so much younger looking and relaxed in sleep. Here he was, the terror of Gotham City oblivious to the world and (in Genevieve’s opinion) heart wrenchingly handsome in his drug-induced stupor. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him again for fear of not knowing if he would wake; and if he did, how he would react. Would she meet glazed and glassy Joker, smoldering kiss Joker, Shove her away Joker, or perhaps even gut her like a trout Joker? With these thoughts swirling in her mind, she eased out from under his arm slowly and slid off of the bed; sighing in relief when he remained still and silent. Genevieve grabbed a purple and lilac pair of leggings, a matching long sleeve t-shirt, and a black bra and panties from one of the suitcases and tip-toed to the bathroom to take a quick shower and brush her hair and teeth.

She decided to let her hair air-dry since she didn’t want to wake him and decided to see if Seth or Doc was around the loft, but when she stepped out into the main living area, it was silent and completely deserted. There were bags of groceries on the granite countertops in the kitchen along with a note from Seth telling her that he and Johnny had stepped out to take care of one of J’s appointments and asking her to use the cell phone he left on the counter to call him. Genevieve picked up the cell phone he had left there hesitantly, wondering what his number was as she powered it on, but could have smacked herself when she saw four contacts listed on it. There were two phone numbers saved for J, a phone number listed under ‘Doc’, one for Johnny Frost, and the last one listed under ‘S’ was the one she pressed to dial him as she peered into the bags on the counter; doing a small happy dance when she spotted different kinds of pasta and jars of herbs.

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty, I’m glad you made it through the night.” He answered, and she could hear the sounds of traffic in the background as well as noisy chatter and horn-honking.

“Sounds like your stuck in traffic Downtown,” She replied, opening the fridge and sighing happily as she saw that he had stocked it well.

“Well Sherlock, don’t worry about where we are; this is just a routine outing we’re on. I’m assuming J is still asleep?” He asked knowingly.

“Yep,” She affirmed as she cracked open a San Pellegrino and began opening the kitchen cabinets in an attempt to familiarize herself with where to put everything.

“Good. I actually need a big favor from you, which is why I had you call me.” He confessed awkwardly, peaking her curiosity.

“Okay….?” She said, stacking boxes of pasta and risotto into a cabinet where they looked like they might go.

“I hate to ask this, but if something happens to those mutts, we’re all toast. Do you want to risk life and limb again and feed them?” His voice was so uncharacteristically hesitant and uncertain that she nearly laughed.

“Yeah, I can do that. Where is this fancy food he feeds them?” She asked, remembering Seth mention their posh diet that Joker kept them on.

“He preps it for the week normally, it should be divided and dated in a refrigerator in the temperature controlled barracks I talked about yesterday; which is right past the garden if I remember correctly. It’s been a few years since he built the place and gave me a tour before the Hell hounds moved in,” He explained, making her chuckle.

“Okay then, I’ll get them fed. Is Doc coming by at all to check on Him?” She asked with concern; both hoping he stayed asleep while Seth and Johnny were gone and wishing he would wake up and kiss her again. What the fuck was wrong with her?

“Alright, good. Keep the phone on you at all times, okay? Call me if you need anything and don’t go downstairs at all, got it?” He asked, his tone making it clear that she should obey his instructions to the letter.

“Yeah, I got it.” She replied as he cut their connection. Genevieve shrugged and stuck the phone in her pocket, beckoning for Anubis to follow her as she stepped out into the rooftop garden.

She smiled fondly as a cacophony of excited yips and the tip-tapping of claws came bounding towards her from beyond her line of vision (probably from the fancy barracks). Anubis greeted the herd of his relatives happily while they surrounded Genevieve almost worshipfully; their expressive golden-amber eyes staring up at her with such devotion that one would have thought that they were her dogs instead of Jokers.

“Alright guys let’s get you breakfast. You have to be starved!” She said, scratching behind ears and scruffs at random as they followed her through the garden to the barracks beyond, where her jaw dropped.

Just as Seth had described, there were six king size beds in the barracks; which resembled a small cabin in size and comfort. The beds were draped alternately with either green or purple fleece blankets and matching pillows and they had quite obviously been slept in by the pack. One of the brindle males hopped up on the bed nearest her, panting happily and watching her with bright intelligent eyes. Genevieve patted his mammoth head and made her way past the apparent bedroom to another room housing an enormous stainless-steel refrigerator, matching six-burner stove, black granite countertops, and terra cotta tile flooring.

“You little shits are so spoiled…” She breathed taking it all in as she opened the fridge and was greeted with organized Tupperware containers with dates of when the food was made and when it was to be used. Wow. Stacks of stainless-steel bowls could be found in the dark oak cabinets above the counters and for a moment she wondered where their water bowls were until she spotted four of the largest gravity water containers she had ever seen which were still ¾ of the way full.

Counting Anubis, there were thirteen dogs to feed; and amazingly they all sat calmly in a semicircle before her, watching attentively as she doled out the carefully prepared portions into thirteen bowls. They all waited until she had laid a bowl in front of each of them before chowing down heartily while she explored the canine paradise further. A door beyond the kitchen led her to the biggest area yet; the agility course, which was complete with a swimming pool and a separate area where they used the bathroom. Genevieve busied herself with the pooper-scooper while the dogs ate, tossing the garbage down a trash chute she spied nearby and going back inside to retrieve the dog bowls from the floor. Seeing a dishwasher beneath the counter, she shrugged, placing their used bowls as well as the Tupperware she had emptied within and running a cycle just as her own stomach gave a growl.

“I guess its about time I see to my own breakfast too,” She sighed, making her way back through the barracks and the Garden to slip back into the loft. Genevieve peeked into the bedroom to check on J, but he still appeared to be sound asleep and oblivious to the world; meaning that she was eating solo. Returning to the kitchen she grabbed a yogurt and a fruit cup from the fridge and ate more out of necessity than actual want, knowing that she had to take her morning medications as well. After her small meal and her morning injections she felt an urge to do something to pass the time, so she retrieved her book from the bedroom quietly and made her way back out to the Garden and into the barracks where she stretched out on one of the king-size beds to read. She wasn’t alone for long though as one by one the dogs filed in; some joining her on the bed while others gathered around the bed on the floor. Anubis hopped up and sniffed her happily before deciding to plop unceremoniously at her head, his baleful eyes begging her to pay him some kind of attention. She lay her head on his middle and began reading, losing herself in the folklore of The Lakota People as she had dozens of times before.

Joker twitched in his sleep restlessly, his body shivering with nervous energy as the nightmare progressed; holding him deeply within its clutches.

_They were in the desert again taking heavy artillery as they holed up in an abandoned village that the locals had left months ago and he was operating on Brady, just as he had been that day and a hundred nightmares since then. _

_“Get him patched as best you can, I radioed ahead, and the rest of the platoon is in position. We got ‘em cornered and it should be routine from here. We secure the explosives and the prisoners and move out; so make sure he can travel, chopper is going to airlift him in ten,” Victor said, ducking when a mortar shell went off a few hundred feet from where they stood._

_“Shit! We got an incoming wave! Davies, Rocco, Mojo; we got incoming heat heading towards us, two kilometers and closing, we---_

_Then the world exploded in white flames and heat and he felt himself being lifted and thrown against some hard and unforgiving surface while his world went black. The dream shifted and he came to in the pit, kicking rats away from him and retching from the stench of half a dozen corpses rotting away a few yards from where he lay. He scrambled to his feet and took in his surroundings quickly; years of training to both save lives and take them drilling through his brain fast as he looked for a way out. He needed rope, something to use to climb; meaning he needed to search the bodies, and if nothing else, their clothing may have to do-_

_“Hey, hey Jackie-Boy!” A familiar voice shouted from above jovially, making him start and look up disbelievingly. He had to be fucking hallucinating now. He had left his Half-Brother with his elderly Aunt back in Gotham……. There was no way in Hell that Bruce could be here….._

_“I’m uh, assuming you want up and out?” Bruce asked, flashing him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Jack blinked the sweat from his eyes as he continued to frown in disbelief. How hard had he hit his head? Or had he been drugged? Where was Victor? Where was Brady? What happened to Mojo and Fox and the rest of his platoon? _

_“Here you go Jack,” Bruce said, tossing a plank ladder over the side of the hole and watching while he struggled up it; but not offering to help._

_“Bruce…..” Jack panted as he hoisted himself over the rim of the pit and fell at his half-brothers feet dizzy and exhausted. Bruce stared down at him with a cold smile for a moment before yanking him up by the hair and half dragging him down a hallway roughly hewn from clay-rock and sand to toss him unceremoniously into the arms of strange men dressed in middle eastern garb who seemed in as desperate need of a shower and shave as he was._

_“I made some new friends while you’ve been away Jack, and not all of them are very nice. I don’t think that Dad would’ve approved much, but who knows about our whore of a Mother, huh? I mean, after all, if she fucked the family Doctor to get herself knocked up with you then she couldn’t have been too goddamn picky, right?” He asked manically as the men shoved him onto a chair and began to tie him to it. _

_“Bruce…… I don’t understand, what the fuck are you doing here? Who are these people? Where’s my platoon?” He rasped with difficulty. He needed water and he needed answers._

_“Well, while you were away with basic training and med school, I met some folks who were kind of concerned about my future and my half of the fortune that our parents left me. You see Jack, it’s all about how you invest things and the kind of people you surround yourself with that determines your growth potential. Take yourself for example; young and talented, youngest person in Gotham to graduate high school, youngest person in Gotham to earn a PhD, all of your accolades and awards and a veritable fortune at your fingertips and you waste it! You decided to come out here with your black ops and your surgical tools and you fucking waste it all! This isn’t the way to gain your fortune Jack, and you know, as your older Brother, I feel almost responsible for teaching you that there’s a better way.” He said with mock fealty approaching Jack slowly and yanking his face up to meet his own._

_“Your going to help me with something Jack, I need that big beautiful brain of yours; and if you want to survive, if you ever want to see Aunt Marla again, you’re going to help me. Where are your men headed next?” He asked, jerking hard on Jack’s hair to make him focus. So it had come to this. Bruce had lost his fucking mind. _

_“Dr. Jack Wilhelm Napier, I’m a Corporal in the United States Marine Corps, Serial Number 643310.” He replied through gritted teeth, head reeling when Bruce landed a stiff right cross to his face; shattering his cheekbone._

_“Oh good…… I was hoping that you were going to make this fun Jackie-boy. You and your fucking sense of humor…..” Bruce pulled a switch blade from his pocket, a psychotic glint in his eyes._

_“What’s the matter Jack? You aren’t smiling any more….” _

Joker screamed himself awake, tucking and rolling out of bed in a tangle of blankets in a cold sweat as he clutched his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut until Bruce’s voice and his face went back into the recesses of his mind. He belonged to the person that Jack used to be, and he had to cram him back into those parameters as his formal training had taught him, for what it was worth. He frowned at the smell of lilac and roses as he caught a whiff of it from the blankets he was caught in and bounded to his feet; the present coming crashing back into him as he looked around the vacant room. Genevieve. He could remember the feel of her, the taste of her as he had kissed her last night and fought to remember anything else after that, but there was nothing but fog. He looked at the bed, at the pajamas he wore, and at the floorboards below his feet and sighed in relief at the absence of signs of a struggle or blood. At least he hadn’t killed her apparently. Joker whipped open the door and it recoiled on its hinges as he stormed into the lofts living area, the kitchen, the dining room; empty, empty, empty. His office was locked as he jiggled the doorknob, pausing in this train of thought to follow another; his dogs…….

How long had he been out? Had it been a few hours? A day? A few days? _Had his dogs been starving this entire time?_

He jogged over to the door that led out to the garden and slammed it open, the absence of barks and yips and wagging tails to greet him alarming as he ran towards the barracks in full panic mode, feeling an unfamiliar tightening of his chest that he almost couldn’t explain until his brain placed the foreign emotion; _fear._ It had been so long since he really had felt it. Joker slid a false cobble stone loose and snatched up the gun underneath, approaching the door to the barracks more cautiously, he paused to listen and frowned when he heard a snuffle and a few snores that were decidedly canine in nature. He turned the corner and his eyes widened at the sight that greeted him, his gun arm going slack and relaxing at his side. Genevieve was curled up in the midst of a massive dog pile fast asleep, her book laying on the pillow forgotten.


	8. Chapter 8: Firsts Part One

Chapter 8

Joker stared at her a moment longer before one of the dogs beside her noticed his presence in the room and made to stand, but J rose his hand, giving him a silent signal to be quiet and stay put to which the dog obeyed at once. He needed time to think. He needed his cell phone; and where the fuck were Seth and Johnny? Joker exited the barracks, his shoulders hunched as he returned the gun to its hiding place and returned to the Loft. He retraced his steps, returning to the bedroom and spotted his cell on the dresser with a couple of texts from Seth. One explaining in code where he went and the other received seven minutes ago stating that he’d be home in ten minutes. Right on cue with three minutes to spare Joker heard the jingle of keys and the sound of footsteps in the lofts living area as he dropped the phone into his pocket and exited the bedroom, nearly colliding with Johnny as he shut the door behind him.

“Hiya Boss,” Johnny said nervously at the look on Jokers face to which J landed a left cross to his face with such force that Johnny was out cold before he hit the floor. Seth watched as his friend went down and put the case of energy drinks on the countertop just in case as Joker rounded on him too.

“Before you knock me out too, you might want to turn on the afternoon news first, that way I can get hit for everything all at once. I hate getting company memo’s piecemeal,” Seth said sarcastically as he made his way to the bar and began stashing away the Corona Lite he had bought. Joker let forth a sinister chuckle that would have had anyone else trembling and begging for their life, but Seth had lived through far too much to flinch.

“Ah Seth, _you’ve got golden ones._” Joker sighed as he approached the bar and hunched forward, leaning his weight on the polished wooden surface.

“Want a drink J?” Seth offered as he dug two cold Corona’s from the back of the bars fridge and offered one to his boss. Joker took the beer and twisted off the top, downing half of it before meandering over to the flat screen and stepping over Johnny to plop on the sofa, flicking the tv on and popping his feet up on the coffee table.

“Back to you Sandra…….Thanks George, terror in Mid-Town last night believed to be linked to The Joker and his associates. Known Mafia family is slain in a gruesome attack overnight in Gotham’s Mid-Town neighborhood, the death-toll is at fifty-four and rising as we get updates from Gotham PD, but one update has confirmed head of the Falcone crime family Salvatore Maroni has been slain. Gotham City Fire Department discovered the head of Mr. Maroni on a parking meter outside of his restaurant when they received a call to put out a five-alarm fire around midnight, a letter J carved into Mr. Maroni’s forehead. No eyewitnesses have come forward as of yet and Chief of Police Gordon has expressed his doubts that any will.” Joker viewed the footage from the news chopper and let forth a low whistle at the charred wreckage of what used to be Sal Maroni’s restaurant, stores, and warehouse.

“Leave it to you boys to have all the fun without me,” Joker sighed softly.

“Yeah boss, about that—

But Joker held up a hand as the anchor woman continued and Seth shut his mouth.

“Chief Gordon reports that footage retrieved from a surveillance camera nearby shows some grainy footage of an unidentified female assailant leading the attack last night which leaves the question; does The Joker have a love interest?” Sandra and George share a chuckle as a thankfully grainy and blurry image of Genevieve; hair flying and warpaint concealing her features as she rides the Gatling gun motorcycle, pops up on the screen. Joker froze mid-sip of his beer and Seth had the urge to just shoot himself and save his boss the trouble as the Gotham News Network thankfully switched to weather and traffic.

J rose from his place on the sofa, his expression unreadable as he stepped over Johnny once more and headed towards Seth, who stood his ground at the bar for what it was worth. He thought momentarily of his long-lost Brother Ritchie and the thought that they might be reunited in Hell sooner rather than later wasn’t all that unappealing to him.

“So you let her run amuck?” Joker asked softly, and when he was quiet, it was never ever a good sign.

“J, after she healed you, she—

“Ah ta ta ta, ‘healed me’?” He asked, interrupting Seth with a raised hand.

“Boss, I swear to everything Holy that you were dead last night after those fucks ambushed us. You were bled out and Doc was working on you, but nothing was helping. Genevieve came out then and she did some kind of ritual and all of a sudden you were back with us; worse for the wear, but alive. I don’t like tossing the word around much, but it was basically a miracle, and you know that I’ve seen a few in my time to be able to tell smoke and mirrors from the real thing and I’m telling you J, that shit last night was the real deal.” Seth said while J began to pace the floor in front of the bar. He was trying to recall something, anything before the kiss last night, but it was fog. The thought of his lips on hers again was a distraction as he imagined being above her and inside of her, the smell of lilac and roses and so much tanned flesh an aphrodisiac if there ever was one and he wondered where the fuck all of this was coming from. He usually never had these types of appetites towards a specific woman; he would have the occasional hooker to relieve his needs and that would be that. What the hell had she done to him? All of this had started the night that he brought her here and it hadn’t left him alone since; she was constantly niggling and naggling at the back of his brain and he didn’t know why.

“I don’t remember anything about last night,” He finally confessed to Seth, carding his fingers through his hair in frustration as he took down a bottle of Jim Beam and took a swig, not bothering to use a glass.

“Well I’m not surprised, like I said, you were in pretty bad shape. There’s one more thing that you should know though, about the girl.” Seth said, wincing when J chuckled ironically.

“What else? Does she sprout wings and fucking fly?” He asked as he gulped down more of the whiskey from the bottle, half of which was gone now already, and he still didn’t feel any better for his troubles.

“Not that I know of, although to be honest, I wouldn’t put it past her. Its about the dogs actually,” Seth said hesitantly, knowing how much Joker loved his damned mutts.

“Oh she’s napping with them as we speak,” J replied, finishing the bottle of Jim Beam and tossing the empty into the trash, swiping the beer Seth had just taken out of the fridge for himself. He shrugged and grabbed another, knowing that Joker was perplexed about the girl to say the least.

“I found her out there last night after I was helping you change and my heart almost went into my throat, but there they were, letting her pet them and play with them. I go and crack the door open to tell her to get her fool ass back inside and they turn on me, out for my fucking blood.” Seth said exasperated. These mutts had seen him come and go on a daily basis for years and they hated him, this girl turns up and after seeing her once, they’re in love. Seth wasn’t going to admit it openly, but his feelings were a bit hurt.

“What happened then?” Joker asked him curiously, interrupting his sullen thoughts.

“She called them off and they went skipping back to her like I didn’t even exist, but then she came back in with her dog, what’s his name? Osiris?” Seth asked with a frown to which Joker snorted, the booze was definitely putting him in a better fucking mood than he had woken up in.

“Anubis. Right mythology, wrong God.” Joker corrected with a smirk to which Seth chuckled and shook his head.

“What?” J asked, seeing that Seth wanted to say something else, but was holding back.

“Nothing boss,” Seth replied, sinking a slice of lime into his Corona and watching the bubbles chase its acidity.

“Don’t ‘nothing boss’ me, I know ya Seth. Fucking spill,” Joker said with a wink, drinking this beer slower and letting a good buzz settle in.

“Well, I was going to say that Genevieve……. She’s alright, you know? Like, she belongs here. You always know how to find people who are a good fit,” He said awkwardly, unsure of exactly how to phrase it.

“Awe Seth stop, you’re making me blush Pal,” Joker replied half sarcastically while trying to read between the lines of what he was really trying to say.

“She’s growing on me a little already to be honest. I think you’d have been proud of your girl last night; I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman do anything like what she did.” Seth confessed with a far off look in his eyes.

“Growing on you? Careful Seth, that sounds like a tumor or mold.” J said with a laugh, making Seth chortle and shake his head.

“You know what I mean J,” he replied with a shrug.

“Oh yeah, I get it. She’s pretty damn impressive from what GNN has to say. Was the motorcycle her idea?” He asked, having an urge to get up and go back to the barracks and fuck her senseless. This was bad. He needed a distraction; and hopefully Seth and the liquor would help, but he also needed a cigarette.

“Yep, it was. I had Cash and Switch do the welding and they had it done in record timing. J, she fucking drove that bad mutherfucker out of the truck while I was still doing at least 50 down Jefferson Avenue, then she turns that sucker on a dime, comes up the side of the truck and drives four car lengths ahead of me. I mean, as soon as we came into range of Maroni’s turf she started weigh laying those fucks with the Gatling gun, just taking guys out like they were stick figures. She’s got fucking potential J, like, the real deal, you know?” Seth asked animatedly while Joker pictured it all in his head.

“Sounds promising,” He agreed, his eyes narrowing as his thoughts shifted and new ideas presented themselves while he scrapped others that he had initially planned.

“You called her ‘My Girl’ a few minutes ago,” Joker said suddenly, breaking one of his own rules and lighting a cigarette in the loft and turning on the exhaust fan over the bar, hoping that would help suck out the smell of smoke.

“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t want to assume anything, its just that you two have seemed, uh kind of close since she’s gotten here.” He replied, unsure suddenly if he had said something to piss J off.

“No, you’re right. She is _my girl._ We just haven’t gotten to that point yet, but it won’t be long now. And Seth?” He asked as he finished his beer.

“Yeah boss?” He said with a frown.

“_I don’t fucking share. _What’s mine is mine, you and the boys need a reminder of that?” He asked pointedly, all of his good naturedness flying right out the window just as quick as it had come.

“No boss, I know that. All of us do,” Seth assured him, looking Joker dead in the eye so he wouldn’t have any doubts.

“Good. I’m going to grab a shower and get dressed, do me a favor and get sleeping beauty off the floor, would ya?” He asked, motioning towards Johnny Frost as he walked back into the bedroom and shut the door.

He stripped off his pajamas and tossed them into his hamper, pausing when he saw a pair of lacy panties in the hamper he had newly placed for Genevieve’s use and growing semi-hard almost instantly.

_Oh, she’s under my skin for sure….. But it feels right too. _

“You’re in deep Jackie-boy,” He sighed out loud as he strode into the bathroom nude and shut and locked the door, just in case she woke up and came back to the room.

As soon as he was done showering, he carefully shaved his face and dressed in one of the suits she had made for him recently, spritzing on some cologne and trying not to wince when he looked in the mirror as he caught sight of his scars. He shrugged, making his way back out into the lofts living area and seeing Johnny laid out on the sofa dead to the world while Seth channel surfed through Comcast. He made his way out into the garden and slowly back into the barracks to peek inside, but Genevieve was nowhere to be seen. He frowned and moved on through the kitchen, finally spotting her running around the edge of the pool with Hades and Persephone; the Mother and Father of his pack. Joker slid the door open and stepped outside slowly hoping not to startle her into falling into the pool.

“Oh Hi! How are you feeling?” She asked breathily as Hades made to snatch the rope toy she was holding out of her hands. Her greeting took him off guard, he wasn’t used to people talking to him like he was a person. He hadn’t had that experience in years.

“I’m uh, fine. I see that the pack likes you,” he said, watching as she tossed the rope toy across the agility course and they all went after it simultaneously, barking and yipping and tussling around one another.

“Your dogs are amazing J! I love them!” She said happily, making her way over to him to watch as Hades and Anubis began a game of tug-of-war in earnest.

“Well I was hoping that I could pull you away from them for a while,” He replied, clearing his throat. He was talking differently; this was Jack’s voice, which was deep and rich. Not the Joker’s normal clowny tones. Genevieve seemed to notice the difference too as she cocked her head to the side and jammed her hands into her pockets.

“Sure, what are we doing?” She asked curiously, following him back inside through the kitchen, the barracks, and out to the garden.

“Going for a drive. You might want to change,” He said looking her over with barely disguised amusement as he took in the sight of her leggings and sweater, both of which were covered in dog hair. She blushed slightly and tucked her hair behind her ears; a sure sign that she was feeling awkward in her own skin, which was nothing new for her.

“Any suggestions?” She asked suddenly, realizing that she had no idea what he had in mind.

_Nothing at all would be nice….._ He thought unbidden, outwardly frowning at her.

“Why do you ask Doll?” He said curiously.

“Well….. are we robbing a bank or dumping a body?” She asked him in all seriousness to which he roared in laughter, unable to help himself. Damn Seth if he wasn’t right about her; this girl was really one of a kind.

“Well, we were supposed to have dinner a week ago, so maybe we can start there? Why? Were you hoping to pull a heist this soon into your contract?” He asked, literally unable to _not _flirt with this woman.

“I’m not gonna lie, it does sound intriguing, but then I’m so conflicted because I haven’t eaten since breakfast, so dinner would be great. Gimme ten?” She asked, flirting back. Ooof, dangerous territory.

“Find me at the bar,” he replied, watching the sway of her hips as she made her way back inside to change.

Genevieve clipped her hair up into a messy bun and took a quick shower, slipping into a dark purple bra and panty set, black dress pants and a beautiful lace and velvet plum colored blouse of her own creation. She slipped into her ankle boots again, spritzed on some perfume, and finished off the look with a quick smoky-eye and liquid matte lipstick in a nearly nude shade. She let her hair down in its black and purple waves and didn’t think she looked half bad as she stepped out of the bedroom; seeing that Joker was alone in the loft and Seth and Johnny had cleared off. He turned towards her when he heard the door open and his breath caught at the sight of her; he wanted her. Had to have her, there was no question of that now. Genevieve saw the shift in his eyes and read the emotions there and was momentarily stunned; she had never had a man look at her that way before, and there was a part of her that liked it.

Joker took out his keys and turned one in the lock that released the elevator that led down to the parking garage.

“After you,” He said, waving her ahead of him into the elevator. They rode down in silence, each lost in the heady presence of the other, but not admitting it openly as the doors opened and Joker disarmed the alarm for his black Lamborghini, which was parked next to dozens of other mouth-watering vehicles in prime condition. He went ahead of her and opened her door, some dormant chivalry that his Father had instilled in him long ago surfacing within.

“Thanks,” Genevieve said softly as she got in and he shut the door, coming around to the drivers side and getting in beside her.

Joker pulled out of the garage and headed down the road along the abandoned pier, giving her a view of the nearby ocean at sunset as he headed out of the Narrows and hopped onto the expressway heading out of Gotham. Without taking his eyes off of the road, he flicked the cars stereo on, which connected seamlessly to his collection of music on his phone; and Kashmir by Led Zepplin began playing in stereo surround and he caught Genevieve’s smirk from the corner of his eye.

“What?” He asked, the tone of his voice guarded in a way as he wondered if he had just shown his age a little too much.

“I love this song; I love all classic rock really, but I haven’t been around anyone else that listened to it besides Dad.” She said softly, memories of her and her Father locked up in the shop after hours with the radio blaring as they sewed in otherwise companionable silence leapt unbidden into her mind and she took a deep breath; she had buried Victor’s memory inside of her as deep as she could, but every now and again something would pull him to the surface and she would have to shove everything back down into the hole again just to keep herself level. J seemed to know what she was thinking, so he changed subjects at lightning speed.

“So there are a few places where I can show my face outside of Gotham, no questions asked because I own them and the people that work at said establishments; so that limits us to Thai food, Italian food, or Mediterranean,” He said, weaving in and out of traffic seamlessly as he sped ahead to avoid idling behind cars for too long.

“I can help you there,” Genevieve replied as she admired his driving prowess.

“Help me? Help me how? _Aren’t you even curious about them ‘Vieve?_” He asked, his tongue making its way out to flick at the scars on either side of his mouth; The Joker’s clowny tones battling with the deeper dulcet tones of Jack Napier.

“Are you curious about mine?” Genevieve asked, rolling up her sleeves and showing off the myriad of thick and crisscrossing keloids, gauges, and gashes.

“You did them yourself,” He replied with a shrug, wondering why she had asked and where she was going with this.

“I did some of them on my own, not all of them. Were you ever going to ask about them?” She persisted curiously.

“Eventually,” He confessed with a shrug as the next song came on and _Sweet Child Of Mine _began, much to Genevieve’s delight.

“Look, they’re just scars. Everyone has them to some degree; ours just happen to be on the outside,” She replied with a shrug of her own as she caught an unreadable expression on his face. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him then; to lay her hand on his knee as he drove the way that her Mother did with her Father countless times as he was driving.

“So when you say that you can help me with them, what exactly do ya mean?” He asked her skeptically.

“You won’t believe me if I tell you.” She said with a sigh, looking frustrated.

“Then show me,” He replied lightly, his eyes alight with an emotion she couldn’t exactly read.

“Right now? I don’t think now is a good time, seeing as your driving.” Genevieve said nervously, biting her lower lip.

“My multitasking abilities are much better than most,” He assured her, which made her snort derisively.

“Okay,” She replied when she had composed herself.

“So?” He prompted her impatiently, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel.

“So?” She asked with a raised brow and a smirk, bumping her shoulder into his and jerking her chin in the direction of the rearview mirror, signaling him to look at his reflection. J looked at her in surprise at her playful gesture; nobody had willingly touched him in years. They had thankfully reached a momentary lull as the expressway had narrowed down to one lane due to construction and Joker looked up into the rearview mirror at his reflection only to nearly collide with the car in front of them; his foot slipping off the brake as his eyes widened in shock.

“J!” Genevieve gasped, using her telekinesis to slam on the brakes and simultaneously reach out and grab his bicep in a vice grip.

_His scars were gone……_

“Are you okay? Shit, I’m sorry! I told you that you’d never believe me.” She said, swallowing anxiously. Had she angered him? Would he forgive her if she had?

“What is this? What did you _do?”_ He asked, his voice back to the quiet and deep baritone. Jack had taken over again.

“Um, my Mom used to call it a glamour. I can still see you as you truly are, but to you and everyone else, the scarring will be gone. I can hold a glamour for about twelve hours at a stretch; fifteen if I really push it. Mom was a lot more powerful than I am because she had more experience, she could easily hold the same glamour for about a week. It’s easier because I didn’t change your entire face, I’m not too good at that yet, but I’ve been practicing. I figured that the most recognizable thing would have been your scars, so that’s what I removed temporarily. I can put everything back to normal whenever you want though, I just wanted you to know that I could help if you wanted a bit more freedom than you normally have,” She rambled, realizing that she still had his arm in a death grip and releasing her hold on him awkwardly, her cheeks flushing as she cleared her throat. He studied her for a moment in silence before taking the next exit at random and driving into uptown New Haverton; the shopping and fashion district of the Suburb.

Genevieve made a face as she studied some of the clothes in the window displays; their gaudiness and overall mass manufactured quality making her wrinkle her nose at them. She must not have realized she was making a face because when J began to chuckle richly beside her she quirked her brow at him questioningly.

“Your expression was priceless; you don’t really hold any cards close to your chest do you?” He asked her, looking more curious and amused than insulting. Genevieve laughed for a moment before she shrugged and settled back against her seat once more to study his hands on the steering wheel; so dexterous with wiry strength, they seemed to have a life of their own as she studied the flex and release of the muscles and tendons on the black leather.

“So, the same question remains ‘Vieve. Mediterranean, Italian, Thai, Japanese; ladies choice.” He said, gesturing to the restaurants up and down the avenue.

“Mediterranean sounds nice, it’s been forever.” She finally decided as he rolled up to a valet on their left and she unclipped her seatbelt, nearly opening her door before one of those sinuous hands gently tugged her arm, causing her to turn to him and barely contain a gasp as her eyes met his; he was inches away from her and she had cause to wonder once again if he was a magician or perhaps part cobra, so silent and quickly he moved.

“What?” She breathed as a grin crawled across his face in amusement.

_Why, oh why was she so fun to play with? Why was he flirting with her? Why did he need to have his hands on her? Why wasn’t she fucking terrified of him? She could still see the scars, even if nobody else could, even if he couldn’t himself. Why the fuck didn’t he disgust her? She knew what he looked like, knew what he had done, and knew what he was capable of doing._

_“_A lady should never open her own door,” He replied, Jack still present in the forefront and Joker hanging back to watch the proceedings bemusedly. Joker was so, so quiet when she was around……

“At least chivalry isn’t dead,” She replied with a grin as she sat back and took her hand from the door handle.

“No….. Although I may have strangled it a few times here and there.” He said with a wink, making her blush and shake her head. J exited the car and paused, looking around as he made his way to the passenger side; but nobody was giving him a second glance. He opened Genevieve’s door and handed her out as the Valet approached them.

“Good evening Sir, if you’ll just step this way, Faraj will get you seated.” He said as he took the keys and J handed him a tip. Apparently Genevieve’s ‘glamour’ was still firmly in place as the man named Faraj greeted them just as amiably and lead them to a private alcove decorated in a fusion of Greek and Moroccan flair. Faraj left them menu’s and the wine and spirit lists along with crystal goblets of water before returning to his post at the entrance. J for his part kept his eyes open, looking around at the waitstaff and their fellow diners before Genevieve tentatively reached across the table and placed her hand on his arm to get his attention. He stiffened momentarily, but relaxed once his eyes met hers and he met no malice or fear there; no repulsion or hatred.

“Listen J…….. I know that you don’t know me, and this is really, really out of the ordinary for you, but I would never put you in a compromising situation; so you can relax. Everything is working fine, and it’ll stay that way for the evening. You can trust me,” She said it all so earnestly that he was taken aback; studying her eyes and the honesty he found there.

“What is all of this? What do you _want?”_ He asked quietly, still glancing around and leaning forward towards her so he could speak in a near whisper and she could still hear him.

“I could ask you the same question…… why’d you save me?” She asked, noting how he shifted his shoulders uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze as the waiter came to their table to inquire about drinks.

“We’ll take a bottle of Chateau Petrus and a couple of Mediterranean Sours,” He replied as Genevieve took a sip of her water.

“Are you trying to get me wasted?” She joked when the waiter departed to lighten the mood; things tended to shift intensities whenever they were in the same room…..

“Damn, I keep forgetting how old your _not_,” He replied with a grin and she shook her head.

“Well, I am at least 19 now, thanks much. Besides, girls mature faster than guys.” She said, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes with a smirk.

“I became acquainted with my Dads liquor cabinet when I was twelve.” J said, voice dripping with irony.

“That’s not a sign of maturity,” Genevieve laughed.

“Hacking the code on it sure as hell was; with two teenage boys in the house Dad was taking no chances.” He retorted, letting down some of his guard and letting some of his past slip.

“Did he ever find out you did?” She asked curiously, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Sent me off to military school for a year after that,” J replied with a nod.

“Yikes! Did you ever break in there again after you came back?” She asked curiously.

“No. I didn’t really want to after I came back; I continued on in military school and went to medical school, both of my own volition.” Jack was still talking now, and he wondered belatedly why he was telling her so much.

“So that’s where you learned medicine……. But I can’t imagine you taking orders from anyone,” Genevieve confessed with a shrug.

“I put up with it so I could learn what I wanted to know. Sometimes I didn’t mind following orders, other times I questioned them, and there were times out on the field where the orders changed because the guys that could pull rank on you were dead or incapacitated and they weren’t as pushy when you were trying to save their asses,” He explained softly, his eyes taking on a faraway caste as he lost himself to memories from another lifetime.

“I didn’t mean to pry, I’m sorry.” She said finally, seeing the look in his eyes and the almost haunted expression on his face.

“Nah, its fine. I just haven’t really thought about that part of my life for a long time,” he shrugged nonchalantly, and Genevieve changed the subject.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask; why all the purple?” she murmured, cocking her head with a curious smile.

“It’s my favorite color,” he replied as the waiter brought their wine and cocktails.

“We’ll have the Moussaka and grilled veggies,” J ordered without a glance in the waiter’s direction as he sipped his Sour.

“It’s my favorite color too, I’m just surprised you like it so much. It’s been the highlight of my career working on your wardrobe,” She confessed with a smile, sipping her own cocktail and enjoying its sweet tartness.

“Just how did you get involved with making my clothes?” He asked with genuine interest; he honestly would have owed Victor a quiche and a good bottle of brandy had he been alive. Seth was right. Genevieve had grown on him. She flushed scarlet and cleared her throat, eyeing the lime green hues of her drink as she stalled.

“The answers definitely not in your drink,” he whispered, nudging her leg with his foot beneath the table; causing her blush to run from pink to scarlet.

“I was twelve when it happened, I actually guilted Dad into it, but I had been planning on asking to work on your account for months. He’s the one that slipped up and gave me the perfect opening actually,” She reminisced with a smile.

“Oh?” J prompted her.

“Yeah, he had forgotten my birthday you see, so I had him right where I needed him. I started sewing at Dad’s shop when I was nine years old, and I began handling professional accounts by the time I was ten. I kept asking him, well, kind of begging him to work on ‘the purple mans account’, but he kept refusing; telling me that you were elite clientele and off limits until I really perfected my craft, which was crap because I had a lot of repeat clientele of my own that were high-paying accounts as it was. We were swamped all summer and well into October that year and my birthday had come and went so fast that I had nearly forgotten about it myself until my Cousin Geo reminded me when he dropped by the shop with a card. My Dad literally looked like he felt like shit for forgetting, so of course I take advantage of it. He comes to the back of the shop and says that he’s so sorry and we were going to close up early and go to my favorite restaurant and go to the mall and that I could have whatever I wanted,” She recalled, smirking.

“So you asked to work on some of my orders?” J frowned incredulously.

“No. I asked Dad for the entire account; you were literally my twelfth birthday gift. I didn’t want anything else,” She confessed, avoiding his gaze for a moment while the waiter served their dishes to them.

J processed that information for a moment thoughtfully as he recalled all of the creations he had ordered over the years and had given all of the accolades to his old pal Victor when it had been this insanely beautiful and talented woman all along.

“So you’ve been with me nearly since the beginning……how ironic,” He murmured as the waiter set down their dinner. Genevieve nodded and shrugged; recalling that J had only pulled off a few good heists here and there according to a couple of years of sporadic GNN reports before she had gotten his account from her Dad….

“Ah, before I forget,” J pulled out a small case and slid it across the table to her. Genevieve frowned for a moment before opening it and finding her insulin pen and a fresh needle head.

“You know, most guys go with flowers.” She joked; making him snort into his drink.

“I’m not uh, really used to this to be honest.” He said truthfully as she discreetly injected under the table.

“Business meetings or First Dates?” She asked, her eyes sparkling with a surprising amount of endearment. She didn’t really know what it was about this insane one-of-a-kind man, but they clicked. It had happened for her instantly with that first phone call.

“This is not a first date, it’s the third or fourth at least.” He said, clearing his throat and serving them each a glass of Chateau Petrus.

“Uh-huh, and why don’t I recall these other dates we’ve had?” She asked with a scoff as she cut into the moussaka.

“Well, I think you were distracted by my chivalry the first time. You know; full moon, a midnight encounter, archery, a romantic late night drive back to my place,” He teased, causing Genevieve to roll her eyes and chuckle into her napkin in an effort not to choke.

“Oh wow, I guess I did overlook that one. Was that arrow in the shoulder an excuse to try to get to second?” She asked, giving his leg a soft kick under the table as he shook with silent laughter.

“Damn, see? I can’t get anything past you.” He replied as though at a loss for what to do with her.

“And the second date?” She prompted him, eyebrows raised.

“Okay, okay. I guess this can qualify as the second,” J said, hands raised in mock-surrender. Genevieve smirked and shook her head, finishing her Sour and taking another bite of moussaka as J dug into his own dinner at last.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

J opened her car door for her again when they had finished dinner, stepping out into a breezy starlit evening; just one of dozens of couples enjoying a Saturday in autumn.

“So, where to now?” He asked her as he slipped into the driver’s seat once more, flicking through songs and settling on Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana.

“Wherever you want,” She replied with a shrug, secretly just wanting to be in his company no matter where it was they happened to end up.

“Trust me, you don’t want to leave it up to me. When I’m not robbing banks and blowing up buildings, I can be pretty boring.” He joked, enjoying the sound of her laughter once more.

“Seriously though, if you could do anything right now, what would it be?” She asked him curiously.

“Seriously? You really want to know?” He asked her conspiratorially, shifting a bit closer to her as they sat parked in the nearly deserted valet lane.

“Mm-hmm.” She replied, unable to help herself as she snuck a quick glance at his lips; the memory of their one shared kiss forefront in her mind as he moved closer.

Jack paused momentarily before cupping her cheek in his slightly trembling hand, moving forward to claim her lips with his own.


End file.
